


Run, do it for love.

by LiteratiGeek



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Adventure, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Jealousy, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteratiGeek/pseuds/LiteratiGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne have survived the war of the five kings. They escape the Dragon's Queens reign to Tarth, eventually trying to make a new life for themselves in Essos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've got you.

Smoke fluttered in the air, fires burning even as the bulk of the fighting had moved on. She had fallen some time ago and only just rose to her feet. Her hand grabbed her side and pulled back covered in mud. With a groan, she reached up and undid strap on her shoulder holding her armor in place. She bent over as it fell to the ground and she was left with her top half covered in just her cotton undershirt and boiled leather.  She covered the wound on her side with her hand again and began to walk through the maze of dead bodies, living, and debris.

She coughed and had to support herself against a broken trebuchet. She grimaced as pain surged from her side and allowed herself a moment to soak in that pain before she straightened up and began walking again. All around her the hands of the living waved from the ground in helpless outreach for aid. Her blue eyes scanned the masses, looking for some sign that would lead her in the right direction. She remembered the last time she had seen him; he was riding off in the vanguard towards the outer left side.

By some grace of the seven rays of the sun pushed through the cloud of smoke blanketing the fields. One such fortunate ray found its place to glisten off the only hand on the field that could. The twinkling caught Brienne’s gaze and she gasped. The gasp turned into another cough as she stumbled over the head of a fallen axe in her pursuit. She caught her balance and her feet carried her over the uneven ground until she fell to her knees next to that outstretched hand.

“Ser Jaime.” She breathed out looking down on him. His face was coated in ash and blood; if it was his own she did not know. His armor was dented on his chest, but the worse of the damage was on his right leg. His boot was caved in at the shin, blood coating the front of it down to the foot where there was another blow although not as bad.

“Brienne,” He choked out through a sore throat and bloody mouth. His green eyes squinted up at her, more out of daze than to shield them.

“Yes, I’ve found you.” Brienne smiled weakly down at him.

“I am glad for it.” He replied, closing his eyes, letting out a deep breath.

“Can you walk?” Brienne asked looking down to his leg.

“I am not sure, I have not moved from this spot and from the feeling I’m not entirely sure if I have legs to stand on.” Jaime explained between deep breaths.

“I can assure you that you still have legs, Ser Jaime.” Brienne told him.

“Oh, good. At least there’s that.” Jaime replied, forcing a small smile as he opened his eyes to look up at her again. Brienne took a deep breath and then reached over, undoing the straps of his armor. She pulled his arm off and then stood up. She bent over, grabbing his arm and pulling him over her shoulders with a heavy groan her other hand holding onto his legs as she straightened up.  

She carried him through the mess of the battle towards the tents of the healing. She had to stop three times. Once they took the armor off Jaime’s legs besides his boots, the second time he pulled his golden hand and boiled leather doublet off, and on the third stop Brienne took her own off. The sun was setting by the time she stumbled into one of the open sided tents, dropping Jaime ungracefully onto one of the empty cots, “I have a highborn!” She called and then fell onto the ground next to his cot.

An elderly man with a blood covered apron and a frazzled look walked over to the bed and gasped, “He’s lost a hand!”

“It was like that before.” Brienne told him as she pulled her boots off.

“Oh, thank the seven.” The man sighed, “Well, what’s hurt worse?”

“The leg!” Jaime snapped, the man gave a nod and began expecting Jaime’s hurt leg. Jaime only groaned once when the man twisted it to the side.

“It’s broken, but not touched by infection. We can mend it, but it’ll be messy and time consuming. If you’d rather we can just chop it off and be done with it.” The man suggested.

“Oh, yes! I’d love to be the one hand-one foot wonder.” Jaime groaned, his eyes closing as his hand gripped the side of the cot.

“He’ll keep the leg.” Brienne added.

The man disappeared, only to return sometime later with a stint and bandages. Jaime’s armor was cut off his leg, his wound tended to, and eventually his leg stinted and wrapped. It was early in the morning by the time they finished with him. Sweat had rolled most of the dirt from his face, but the old man obliged him by cleaning off the rest. A young woman came by sometime after to attend to Brienne’s wound.

Brienne, seemingly without pause, pulled her cotton shirt above her head and held it against her chest as she leaned to the side, giving the girl enough room to clean and stitch the wound on her side by the light of a lantern she carried with her. Jaime found his eyes straying over to her and back to the ceiling again. Her back was covered in the freckles that flaked her nose, along with a few scars and even more bruises. He looked back over to her for another glance like a child passing his first whorehouse. This time he was met with Brienne’s blue eyes looking back at him.

“What happened?” He asked nodding towards her.

“An axe.” She said simply, her jaw set in determination to not flinch at the pain in her side.

“My brother fought with an axe.” Jaime said thoughtfully looking up to the ceiling.

“I can promise you it was not your brother.” Brienne told him, keeping her eyes on him.

“Aye…he would have had to swing the axe above his head to inflict that wound and I doubt he had the strength.” Jaime chuckled and then groaned, crossing his arm over his stomach.  The woman finished tending Brienne, who thanked her before she left and replaced her cotton shirt over her head. “You know, they have not told us who won this war.”  Jaime commented closing his eyes.

“You are alive, Ser Jaime, as am I. I believe  _we_  must have won.” Brienne told him, laying back down on the ground; she had refused a cot for those who were more wounded than she.

“Yes, we must have.” Jaime noted softly. 


	2. Not so short.

Days past in the tent, but they all ran together. An endless stream of men and women were dragged from the field into the tents around them. Running out of room seemed to constantly be a threat that never peaked. At one point Brienne was forced to sit perched at the foot of Jaime’s cot for the majority of a day while her spot was occupied by a man who had taken an arrow to the eye. Eventually the man died and Brienne was allowed her spot in the mud again.

The old man who had mended Jaime’s leg walked to the tent one morning as Brienne was attempting to convince Jaime that eating the food they were given, however gross it was, was a good idea. “You said he was a highborn.” The man spoke up looking to Brienne.

“Yes, he is.”

“Might I have the house name? We are running out of room, many men are returning home. His leg is mended.” The man explained. Jaime stuffed his mouth with the fried bread he had complained about earlier and looked to Brienne.

“Tarth.” Brienne said simply, Jaime’s brow creasing.

“Tarth?” The man asked curiously.

“Galladon of Tarth.” Brienne told the man with a nod, “If you wish you may send word to Selwyn Tarth. Inform him that his son Galladon is alive and wishes to finally return home. Exactly those words, do you understand?” Brienne asked looking up at him.

“Yes, it will be sent shortly. Thank you.” He said with a nod and disappeared.

Jaime looked over to her giving her a look, “I am Galladon of Tarth?” He asked curiously.

“My brother.” Brienne said simply, “Your house is a danger and my name is a traitor. Not much is known of my family among the kingdoms, who are they to question if the Evenstar had a son or not. Perhaps I’ve been mistaken for him in times past.” Brienne shrugged.

“You have a brother?” Jaime asked his brow creasing.

“Had, he died when I was young.” Brienne said simply and laid back down, “Eat all of that.” She added having noticed Jaime had stopped eating.

“If your brother is dead your father will think the letter a fake.” Jaime noted looking towards her side of the cot.

“No.” Brienne said simply, “My father is aware of certain rumors. If the man keeps true with my words my father will know it is me.”

Days past before the man returned. Jaime was well enough to sit up in his cot now, color had returned to his features, and he was willingly eating more. Brienne had finally accepted a cot to sleep on, hers was pushed up against Jaime’s. They both claimed it was out of necessity of room. She had been given a new pair of boots after they found a man with an axe in his head and a fresh pair of boots on his feet. She got a new doublet from a man who had lost a leg. Jaime was placed in a much better mood the day Brienne returned with his golden hand she had fought away from a washerwoman who was using it to pleasure herself, and a clean shirt for him.

Brienne had been inspired to search for the hand after Jaime had stopped another washerwoman to ask if she had heard anything of Casterly Rock. She claimed the castle had been taken by the torch, although it was eventually stopped. The Lioness was still prowling around it. Rumors had started that the imp road a dragon in to set the whole place a blaze, but all three of the Queen’s dragons had been accounted for with one in the North at the wall and two south at King’s Landing. Unless his brother had found a fourth dragon that rumor was a lie. Not knowing who she was talking to the woman also added that the Kingslayer was dead and hanging by a noose from the drawbridge and each night he was pulled back into the castle for the Lioness to have her pleasure with him again. Jaime had almost lunged at the woman so Brienne bid her leave for her own good.

When the man finally returned he found Brienne on Jaime’s cot behind him, one leg out to the side and the other tucked between them. Jaime was casually oiling Oathkeeper on his lap while Brienne focused on cutting his hair with a small knife she had found. It had come after days of him complaining of his hair sticking to his face. The man cleared his throat and both looked up at him almost simultaneously. “Your father has sent word. You and the lady will be escorted south to Storm’s End come next sun rise. You will have a party of five.” He explained.

“Thank you.” Jaime smiled at the man with a nod before he walked off again. “What are we to do in Tarth?” He asked curiously.

“Wait for your leg to heal. We have a measter who will take better care of you. You will regain your strength and then we will decide what’s to be done.” Brienne explained as she went back to cutting his hair.

“And what will your father say when I’m rolled through the doors seeking aid?” Jaime asked curiously.

“He will help, I will explain.” Brienne said simply, keeping her eyes on the knife in her hand. It grew quiet between the two for a few minutes.

“Not so short.” Jaime noted after she had cut at a few locks. Brienne rolled her eyes and continued with what she was doing as Jaime tilted his head forward again and went back to tending to Oathkeeper.


	3. To Tarth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter rears its ugly head in the south as Jaime and Brienne travel to Tarth.

They departed for Storm’s End early in the morning with their company of five. Jaime, despite his protests, was unable to sit a horse and was forced into a cart. Brienne road beside him, allowing their escorts to surround them. It would take two days to reach the nearest inn, and another day after that for their company to reach Storm’s End.

“This is humiliating.” Jaime noted before they had even reached the end of the encampment. “I can ride a horse. If Tyrion can ride a horse I can ride a horse.” He insisted.

“You attempted and nearly pissed yourself from the pain.” Brienne reminded him.

“And I was willing to do so in order to ride.” Jaime replied with a look.

“I was not going to ride beside you for three days smelling of urine.” Brienne told him matter of factly.

“Smelled of worse.” Jaime pointed out.

“The cart is fine, we’re faster this way.”  Brienne said simply.

That night they camped in the Kingswood near another band of soldiers travelling home from the battle. A sheet of deer pelts were placed over Jaime’s cart, that now comfortable in he refused to get out of. The sheet proved to be an asset, the winter winds blew from the north bringing with it frozen rain. The men huddled closer to the tree trunks, attempting to keep dry under the pine branches but to no avail. Jaime peeked his head out from under the deer pelts for a moment, eyes squinting against the wind and rain.

“Brienne.” He hissed before ducking back under the sheet. He waited a moment and then looked out again, “Brienne!” He said a bit louder.

“What!” He heard her shout back over the wind.

“Come here!” He said moving back under the sheet. There was a moment’s pause before he spotted her at the opening of the cart.

“What?” She asked, her head and shoulders covered by her drenched cloak.

“Join me.” He told her moving over.

“It would be unfair with the men out in this.” Brienne said simply.

“I am a crimple and you are a woman, by the Gods it’s fair.” Jaime told her with a look. “For once in your life take advantage of your sex and join me where it’s dry if not a bit musky.”

Brienne sighed and after a moment she seemed to give in to his argument and crawled under the sheet of pelts with him. It was dark in the cart, the fire had long since burned out from the rain. There was enough room for the both of them, and they could have possibly fit another if they had offered. Brienne pulled her cloak off of her head and pushed it to the side. In its stead Jaime handed her his that had remained mostly dry.

“Thank you.” She said breathless and draped it over her shoulders and head. She laid on her stomach as he laid on his back beside her. She pulled her arms up under her, hugging herself as she let out a shaky breath.

“When do you think it will pass?” He asked curiously.

“Hopefully by morning,” Brienne replied closing her eyes.

“Appears those Starks were right all along.” Jaime noted thoughtfully after a pause.

“It would seem so.” Brienne agreed.

“Too bad the south is just as stubborn.” Jaime added softly with a small smile to himself.

The rain had not stopped by morning. They broke their fast on dried meats and bread. Jaime refused to allow Brienne to leave the safety of the cart until it was absolutely necessary that she help them to pack up camp.  In an attempt to give the riders a relief they took turns riding in the cart with Jaime under the deer pelts and the extra horse was hooked up to the cart. Jaime found that Brienne made a much better cart mate than the five other men they were riding with.  At least she was better at conversation.

They reached the inn at Bronzegate a little after nightfall. After the war, inns seemed to have become less corrupt as innkeeps found they could make more profit after running an honest business than tricking unsuspecting travelers out of their silver and horses. The company dined on a hot meal and the men stayed near the fireplace as most of the tenants in the inn did after dinner. Two of the few exceptions were Jaime and Brienne.

After sometime of Brienne half carrying, half frog-walking Jaime up the stairs they arrived at their room. Brienne helped him to the straw mattress and then stood up straight stretching herself out before beginning to strip herself of her armor. Jaime pulled his damp doublet off and tossed it before lying back on the mattress.

“I suppose we’ll bathe at Storm’s End.” Jaime noted staring at the ceiling, “We’ll want to look our best for papa.”

“Do not call him that.” Brienne snapped, stopping midway to unbuckling her belt.

“What does he prefer then? Father? Pop?” He questioned and looked over to her before chuckling, “Do relax, dear sister.”

“Do not call me _that_.” Brienne replied with a glare.

“No? You’re right…you’re much more than that.” Jaime said lightly and looked at the ceiling leaving Brienne half-disrobed and staring at him. “Tell me of father.” Jaime added after a pause, in the time it took Brienne to strip to her small clothes.

“He is a great man.” Brienne said simply.

“Many used to say the same of my father, I’ll need to know specifics.” Jaime replied looking over to her.

Brienne sighed and sat against the wall on the mattress, “He is just, and he is fair. He believes in honor, and fulfilling duty.” She told him.

“Oh, so that’s where it comes from.” Jaime said simply looking over to her with a small smile.

“His wife died many years ago, he never remarried. He is kind to those of his household. He often says you can tell the character of a man by how he treats those in his charge.” Brienne added looking across the room as it fell silent between them.

“Brienne,” Jaime spoke up, his eyes still on her. After a pause, her gaze broke from the wall and she looked back down at him, “You have still to tell me your plan for when we meet your father. I am a traitor, I have caused you to…”

“You have caused me nothing. I made my choices on my own and they are mine.” Brienne insisted.

“I need to know. What do you plan on telling this man to convince him not to hold me to trial or send me back to Casterly Rock? I need to know I did not just survive this war only to die by the hands of your father.” Jaime replied moving to prop himself up on his elbows.

“I…I do not know.” She replied softly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to make the chapters subtly longer and longer until they're up to my standard fanfic chapter size. The first two were actually ficlets on tumblr which is why they're on the shorter side for me. Once they get to Tarth the chapters will definitely be longer.


	4. Storm's End PepTalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne stop at Storm's End on their way to Tarth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how aware I made it in the previous chapters. I'm in the boat that thinks the war for the throne will last awhile, I doubt it'll be a clean one major battle war and be done with. Not to mention I'm pretty sure multiple people are going to sit the throne even still. That being said I tried to establish (Through a little exposition which I'll probably continue to do) a time gap in this chapter to show this is a few years after ADWD, they've been up to a few things and their relationship has developed a bit from where it was in the books.  
> Hopefully it's not too confusing.

By their final day of travel the rain had stopped although clouds covered the sky. The morning was quiet; the sun rose and cast their shadows before them along the road. Even Jaime kept himself quiet. Brienne was overcome with the realization that this was the closest to home she had been since she left to train at Storm’s End. She could small the sea salt in the air, she swore it smelled different in the south than it had at Crackclaw Point. The realization alone was enough to place a small smile upon her lips.

The travel was smooth and uneventful. Even during the war there had been little activity that far south until you travelled into Dorne. The only delay was when Jaime’s cart hit a tree root and they had to stop to mend the wheel. Even as they sat on the side of the road, Brienne did not catch onto the conversation. She had remained silent the entire day. On their first journey Jaime had become accustomed to this, but now it caught his attention as odd.

They did not reach the castle of Storm’s End until just before nightfall. The clouds had brought cold rain with them again before the company had a chance to reach safety. Jaime propped himself up on his hands and looked over his shoulder as they were stopped at the gate for questioning.

“So, that’s the castle Stannis clung to like a barnacle to keep? I must admit it looks do suit him.” Jaime chuckled, mainly to himself since the men were talking to the new lord of the castle and Brienne was looking out over the rocky shoreline into the dark abyss. To Jaime it seemed she was looking, although she did not see it, at Tarth that was just over the shoreline.  _Perhaps she thinks to see it if she stares hard enough._

They were welcomed into the greathall and given salt and bread.  Jaime did not recognize the new lord although he looked like a dornish man and spoke with a foreign accent. After a brief discussion of plans over dinner they were directed to their rooms.  This time Jaime was accompanied by two of the men they had travelled with leaving Brienne to follow with their bag thrown over her shoulder.  The men left Jaime in one of the guest rooms, Brienne had been instructed to sleep in the one next to it. The lord and the men were unaware that they had not slept more than ten feet apart since being reunited in the Riverlands. Brienne had her doubts that Jaime would allow her to leave to go to her room that night.

Jaime had just managed to get his one boot off when maids brought in a tub and began filling it with water. Brienne ignored them as she worked to take her amour off. By the time she was down to her cotton trousers and tunic the women were done and Jaime was attempting to lift himself off the bed. Without a word Brienne crossed the room and took him under his arms, lifting him to his feet and helping him to the tub.  To protect his hurt leg Jaime was forced to awkwardly sit with his leg over the edge of the tub, which presented Brienne with a rather obnoxious view of his manhood.

To prevent _it_ being in her constant eyeline, she sat herself on her knees behind him to scrub his back. The position for Jaime wasn’t the most comfortable, in order to compensate it was reasoned they should hurry.

“Easy there.” Jaime muttered against Brienne’s scrubbing.

“Should I call one of the washerwomen? Perhaps you’d prefer their gentle care.” Brienne replied.

Jaime simply smirked to himself and went back cleaning his legs and all things Brienne couldn’t, and wouldn’t, reach. The water had barely dropped to room temperature when they had finished. Awkwardly, Brienne helped him out of the tub before stripping off her small clothes to climb into the tub herself. She had lost most of her modesty in the war out of necessity; although she often took delicate care to make sure the most important parts were kept hidden at least.

As she scrubbed Jaime shamelessly watched her from his spot on the bed. He could only see from the mid of her back up, but every so often he could see the tops of her knees or her arm rise out of the water. He had been watching her for a while, not just in that moment but since they had been reunited. He found a grace in the way she walked, a beauty in the way she carried herself. Each motion she made, he knew was not dictated beforehand for his pleasure, but sometimes he would like to think it was. No one else was there to watch her but him after all.

When she was done, she climbed out of the tub and pulled her small clothes back on. Jaime had broken his eyes away from her at some point during her bath to pull his own trousers on and scooted back to sit against the headboard of the bed. He had realized earlier that day that she was upset over something, the crease in her brow had been the first sign and the silence the second. So, it was no surprise to him that she began messing about the room instead of laying on the bed with him. When she was upset she moved, idleness only upset her more.

“You’ve been quiet today.” Jaime noted as he watched her emptying their bag for no apparent reason other than to have something to do.

“I’ve been thinking.” Brienne replied keeping her eyes down on her work.

“About what you will tell your father?” Jaime asked rather bluntly.

Brienne stopped unpacking and looked back over to him. She rose to her feet, Jaime’s leather doublet still in her hands from where she had taken it out of the bag. “Yes.” Brienne told him with a nod.

“Care to share?” Jaime questioned raising an eyebrow.

“Well…I…when we arrive at Evenfall Hall I will introduce you…and then ask for a privacy…” Brienne began, her fingers pulling at the leather string that closed the neck of the doublet.

“Do you think that’s for the best?” Jaime asked, “Surely in a public place it would seem more genuine.” Jaime reasoned.

“In a public…I…I cannot.” Brienne told him shaking her head. “In a privacy it will seem less as if you’re influencing my…”

“Yes, but in a public declaration he would be less likely to deny…”

“It would embarrass…him.” Brienne said, her voice rising before she quickly softened it. “I cannot.” She repeated.

“Brienne…remind me, who was it that sunk a ship singlehandedly?” He questioned.

“It was merely a boat…” Brienne replied looking at the floor. “What does that have to do…”

“And who fought a bear in front of dozens of men?” Jaime asked ignoring her correction.

“That’s different!” Brienne insisted.

“And who declared to Lady Stoneheart she would never dishonor her duty?” Jaime asked thoughtfully.

“There were only a dozen men there.” Brienne pointed out.

“Who took on a bloody dothraki hoard by herself?” Jaime asked giving her a look for emphasis.

“They were disoriented and there was only five I’d hardly call that a hoard and they normally fight on horseback!” Brienne sighed seeming defeated.

“You survived a war! You can talk to your father!” Jaime insisted, his voice rising a bit.

“If I were to have a sword in my hand I could do it, but I cannot.” Brienne snapped. “This I cannot do! I cannot publically…speak…to my father in front of the whole of Evenfall!” She insisted.

“And why not?” Jaime asked staring at her.

“I…” Brienne took a deep breath looking across the room before hesitantly meeting his gaze again, “I will publically…introduce you to my father and Evenfall…” Brienne said softly, “And then I will ask that _we_ have a privacy with him.” She added with a nod to him.

“And then what will you tell him?” Jaime asked softly.

“That we would like safety and shelter on Tarth for as long as you need to heal.” Brienne replied.

“And when he denies me safety?” Jaime asked curiously.

“Then I will insist that if he should send you off the island he would send me off the island.” Brienne told him with a deep breath.

“And when he declares me a traitor to the throne and demands my head?” Jaime asked raising an eyebrow.

“I will insist on trial by combat and fight as your champion.” Brienne replied simply.

Jaime stared at her for a moment, neither looking away from the other. They had been met with situations like this in the past. They survived the trial of Lady Stoneheart. They faced the Dragon Queen’s hoards. Along the neck Jaime was trapped and held hostage by the Crannogmen. They had faced trials and more on their travels throughout the war, and through each one they held to their silent agreement to not separate themselves. They survived _together_ , it was the only way they both could.

“Then at least I will die shortly after you.” Jaime muttered and scooted down in the bed. Brienne glanced around the room and dropped his doublet before sitting on her knees again. She restuffed the pack with their things, not paying a mind to how she did it before she rose back to her feet and walked to the bed.

Brienne had yet to come up with a response for when Jaime told her things like this. He had begun to become more casual with vocalizing his affection for her after she survived a week with a fever along the trident. It seemed that he had no concept that she could die without a sword in her hand and the mere threat of it had shocked him into not forgetting. When he had first started complimenting her she assumed he was merely teasing as he always had. When she started paying attention to his expression when he spoke, she realized he was being sincere. She had settled to pretend to be oblivious to it, at first she thought he would stop, but it seemed it had comforted him enough to continue.

She laid down beside him pulling the furs up to her chest as she looked at the ceiling for a moment before blowing out the candle on her nightstand and laying back down. Jaime looked over to her and then laid down on his side facing her, his hand under his cheek.

“Good night, Jaime.” Brienne muttered and rolled on her side to face him, her eyes closed.  She felt Jaime shift closer to her before he muttered good night in return, close enough she felt his breath on her face. 


	5. Lord Selwyn of Tarth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne travel to Tarth and finally face Brienne's father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so there is a whole lot of me rambling about Tarth in this chapter, and I'm trying to get the next chapter out quickly so there's some quality Jaime and Brienne time in that.  
> I'm kinda concerned that people aren't going to get how I described the Island so if you're confused at all here's things to keep in mind for my verse of Tarth  
> 1.) It's a mix of New Zealand and Scotland.  
> 2.) If you get confused about Evenfall just picture Edoras from Lord of the Rings (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/2e/Edoras.jpg) but more populated and with water behind it  
> 3.) I made a poorly done map! http://i1004.photobucket.com/albums/af162/RudeandNotGinger/TarthMapRun_zps6a28cbb3.jpg  
> Red is the port, black is the road, blue is the mountains, green is the farms.  
> 4.) The Island of Tarth > The Capitol of Evenfall > The castle of Evenfall Hall

To Jaime’s annoyance they were up before the sun rose. Their morning fast was broke on a breakfast of fish representative of the kingdoms at the time; cooked in the bacon grease of Westeros with the spices of Dorne. Most things these days were a harsh mix of kingdoms from cultures mixing as people migrated to get away from one war, only to be trapped in a place by another. This had only been delayed by the Dragon Queen closing all ports for a time, although it was less a closing and more burning the ships with her great black dragon.

Despite that, a few of the smaller ports were able to be over looked and remained open. This included the one at Storm’s End, that even before the war rarely had a ship leave it. The channel between the coast and Tarth fed into Shipbreaker Bay, causing the waters to rush at dangerous speeds that often caused ships to crash into one shore or the other. Only experienced crews were able to manage the waters.

They boarded with Jaime still half-asleep and pushed off just as the sun rose. Jaime remained below deck, it was hard enough to get him up and down the ladder and, besides the inconvenience, he wasn’t used to life on a ship. Brienne on the other hand chose to stay above deck, most of her time spent with half her body over the rails as she looked towards Tarth. The only time she retired below deck was when one of the ship hands told her Jaime had become ill and had emptied his breakfast twice over.

Fortunately, for Jaime their trip wasn’t a long one. Evenfall didn’t have a port of its own for protection, therefore the ship docked at the port on the southern coast of the island a little past midday. Jaime was carried up the ladder again looking as weak as he had been in the war camp. He was laid down on the dock against a mound of fishing nets and handed a bucket in case he wasn’t finished being sick.

“Never again,” Jaime muttered as Brienne strolled in front of him.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Brienne insisted, “And you’ll have to be on a ship again, eventually, unless you plan to spend the rest of your life on Tarth.”

“From what I’ve seen of it, I believe I could.” Jaime reasoned closing his eyes and laying his head back.

They had to wait some time before they could leave the port. The men that had travelled with them left them at Storm’s End and they were to wait on a new guard from Evenfall. They shared what dried meat Brienne had kept and it seemed to settle Jaime’s stomach, although he did not take Brienne up on her offer to carry him to the shore. Instead he stayed and watched as she pulled her boats off and made her way to the sand off the side of the boardwalk.

For a while her head was tilted down, focused on the steps her feet took until the water washed up around her ankles and receded again. Hesitantly she stepped further until the water circled her calves, wetting the bottoms of her trousers. Jaime saw her smile as if she had never before. As if she felt safe enough that no one was watching her and she truly could. She turned and finally looked back up at the hillside that had been overrun by weeds and brush but was still a vibrant green. The smile was still on her features until her eyes looked towards the port and she receded, just as the water had, under the gaze of people.

When the men from Evenfall crested over the hill behind the port Brienne made her way back to Jaime and pulled her boots back on. She was greeted with restrained smiles and nods from the men who recognized her from their years of service. They had brought a horse for her, and with the information given in the letter from Storm’s End, they had brought a cart for Jaime. With a sigh he allowed them to lift him into the cart and they were on their way again.

The trip to Evenfall would be a much shorter ride than they had taken before. Brienne had told Jaime before that at a steady pace one could ride from one end of the island to the other in a day, and they were only going half way and on the only road on the island. Evenfall was the only major city on the island, most of the inhabitants lived there besides the fisherman in the port, and the farmers to the north of the island. The capitol had been kept safe by the cliffs overlooking Shipbreaker Bay on one side and the mountains on the other, broken up only by a single large field that would leave any enemies out in the open for Tarth’s bowmen.

From the port they travelled over flat land with mountains in the distance. Eventually a stream began to form near the road, it soon broke away from the road and flowed into a lake a few yards away. Trees soon began to appear on either side of the road, they were fuller and a brighter green than Jaime had seen before, even in Highgarden.  He saw a heard of deer that would have made Robert Baratheon wet with excitement, and a flock of birds so thick they blocked out the sky. It was as if Tarth had remained untouched as a natural utopia while the rest of the world was destroyed by war.

The sun had begun to set as they started over the wooden pass between the lower mountain ridges. Jaime heard no whispers from the men about being on the lookout. It appeared that robbers were not a problem on Tarth either. If this was truly how the world was on this island it was no wonder Brienne had been as bright-eyed as she had.

For some time she had looked nowhere other than straight ahead. The wooden path beneath them creaked, and yet she paid it no mind. A hawk circled overhead and still her eyes did no stray. She did not want to miss the first sign of the city she had been away from since the age of ten and six. Finally, as they reached the peak of the ridge it was visible. Brienne took a deep breath and for the second time that day she smiled. There was just enough sun left for her to make out the city in its long shadows. She could hear the waves hitting the cliffs behind it and smell the salt in the air. She was finally home again.

They made it across the field to the gates of Evenfall just as the sun disappeared behind the cliffs. Although it was well into the evening the inhabitants of the city seemed to be on alert as the company made their way through the winding road that led to the hall on top of the hill that was Evenfall. Oil lamps and candles flickered to life as people woke to see what the commotion was about. Eventually through the dim light people began to recognize Brienne. Some shouted out to her, others simply followed the company. Jaime looked around and although his stumped arm laid over his stomach none of the people seemed to notice him.

The cart was slower than the horses and at one point it looked as though the road was going to be too steep for it. Brienne had a hard time not riding ahead, knowing full well she would meet her father at the top of the hill, but she held onto the patience she had left and stayed by the cart’s side as they worked their way to Evenfall Hall.

Just as she had imagined when they finally reached the stone stairs that led to the hall her father was waiting atop them. She dismounted without a word and took the stairs two at a time to meet her father. He was a tall man, even standing above her, and at one point in his life he had been a forceful soldier wielding a long sword. Now he handled tactics more than he fought. His feather light hair was blonde but graying, and he had more wrinkles than Brienne remembered he had before she left. He wore a dark blue kilt, in the tradition of the island, and a simple cotton tunic.

“My daughter,” Selwyn Tarth spoke simply, those of the island had a distinct drawl that Brienne had lost in her years on the mainland. Many mistook it for the inhabitants being slow of speech.

“Father,” Brienne replied with a smile.

“What has happened to you?” He spoke softly, his large calloused hand reaching up to lightly touch the edge of the scar on her cheek.

“Many and much, father, I will tell you all.” Brienne replied and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to embrace him. His strong arms wrapped around her and with a deep breath of his scent she truly felt home again.

There was a clunk of wood on stone as the men brought Jaime up the stairs. Brienne pulled back as her father released her and watched as Jaime was helped to stand beside her. She looked over her shoulder to the crowd that had formed below the steps and looked back to her father who was looking Jaime over.

“The letter spoke of a guest.” Her father said simply and looked back at her, ready for an explanation.

“Father…this is Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, I have brought him to Tarth as my guest.” Brienne spoke, her head bowed from years of habit.

“Lannister,” Her father said simply as the whispers from the crowd echoed in Brienne’s ears.

“We…we request to privately meet with you to discuss…to discuss…” Brienne attempted to get the last out but her father cut her off before she could get the courage.

“We will speak now.” Her father said simply and with that he turned, walking the shorter flight of stairs to the great oak doors of the hall and disappeared inside.

“You brought the Kingslayer?” A voice from the crowd shouted out and was soon joined by others in complaint. Most of it was unintelligible, but none of it seemed positive.

“They seem to forget there have been no less than three Kingslayers since I gained my title. I’m no longer the only one.” Jaime muttered as Brienne wrapped her arm around his back and they started up the stairs.

Evenfall Hall was quaint compared to the castles of Westeros. Even its tallest tower was only three stories and used solely for lighting the coast for ships at night. The castle was made up of the main hall, which was traditionally known as the hall of Evenhall, at its center. Over generations towers had been added, the lighted one along with five others. Most of the castle was opened with tall ceilings and with little use of shutters or doors.

Brienne remembered the room where her father conducted business away from his own sleeping quarters. The household staff watched from the shadows as the once lady of the house half carried a crippled traitor through the hall of her father’s. They both remained quiet, listening only to Jaime’s splint hitting the stone floor beneath it.

They reached the beach wood door, its pale color in stark contrast to the heavy oaken doors that guarded the main hall. Brienne knocked lightly before pushing the door open and walking in. Her father was already there, standing with his back to the door and his eyes on the waters outside the window. Brienne sat Jaime in one of the armchairs and stood behind him, not daring to speak first.

“Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock.” Her father repeated, keeping his eyes out the window. “You brought him here.”

“Father, let me explain…”

“You brought him here, and then announced it in front of half of Tarth. Do you realize what would happen if a raven was sent to the Dragon Queen? What would happen if she knew I let this man walk free?” Selwyn asked turning to face them both. “Why would you trust such a man to bring him here?”

“I trust this man with my life…as he has saved it more than once. As I have saved his.” Brienne said simply. “I would not be standing here without him, father. He has committed crimes, yes, but then so have I.”

“That does not take away the fact that his head has a price on it that the Dragon Queen is willing give to all those who help him! You mark this entire island for destruction by keeping him here!”

“Then kill the ravens!” Brienne snapped. It was a rarity that she raised her voice to her father, the last she remembered doing so was in contest over marrying her last suitor.

“I have already given the order to not allow them flight!” Her father replied through gritted teeth.

“Oh…” Brienne said simply, having not expected him to work so quickly. She instantly felt a ping of guilt for shouting at him over it. “Father, you must allow us to reason…”

Her father pulled his eyes from Brienne and looked to Jaime. It was in that moment that Jaime discovered the man did not have his daughter’s eyes, his were a darker shade of gray.  “As a father, I thank you for saving my daughter, if what she says is true.” He said simply, “Yet, as a Lord of the realm I am required to place you on trial for your crimes against the throne.”

“I understand…and you’re welcome. It was my honor.” Jaime said simply with a small smirk to himself.

“Trial by combat,” Brienne spoke up, catching her father’s attention again.

“That is his decision to make.”

“I will be his champion. I will fight in his place against Tarth’s champion so that while he is here he is safe from punishment for his crimes against the crown and that he might be allowed to leave the island when he wishes without restriction.” Brienne said simply, her gaze slowly moving to the floor in front of her father’s feet.

Her father was quiet for a moment before he replied, “The terms are fair.”

Brienne raised her head to meet her father’s eyes, “Thank you.”

“The trial will be healed in two days’ time. Tomorrow there will be a feast in honor of your return home.  I will have a private word with you before the feast.” Selwyn explained his eyes never leaving his daughter’s.  “You may show him to the guest room, it has been made up for him. You’ll find your room ready as well.” He added.

“Thank you, father,” Brienne said lightly, reaching down to help Jaime up again.

“He is to stay in his room until the trail. I see no reason for a guard since he cannot walk, and there are no kings here to be in danger.” Her father said simply and walked back to the window.

Brienne wrapped her arm around Jaime once again and without another word left her father’s room.  Brienne led him back in silence through to the main hall where they met a maid of the house who directed them to which room Jaime would be in. She was of no help in terms of carrying him, but she walked in front of them all the same. This forced them into silence the entire walk until they arrived at Jaime’s room.

Brienne sat him on his bed and immediately walked away from him as far as she could before turning around and walking back. He looked up and for a moment, they met eyes, and without a word Brienne turned once again, this time leaving the room. Jaime’s night was spent in a slow paced routine of attempting to accommodate himself. At some point a plate of food was brought to him as well as a change of clothes that looked as if each piece had belonged to a different man and none of it fit him properly. He supposed it had been Brienne’s doing that he had any clothes or food at all.

He had got himself comfortable enough to fall asleep late into the night, but was softly woken up shortly after by a hand on his shoulder. His eyes adjusted to the dim light from the window to look upon Brienne, dressed merely in a thin tunic, mere inches from him. “Move over.” She whispered. Jaime wanted to protest but he moved further to the left, giving her enough room to slide into the bed next to him. She rolled over onto her side to face him, her scarred cheek pressed against his shoulder.

She didn’t speak a word, but soon Jaime could tell her breathing had steadied and she had drifted to sleep. He bit his lip looking down at her, gently moving his arm that lay between them. No sooner had he moved it an inch than she wrapped her arms around it and held it beneath her. He sighed and shifted as much as he could to become comfortable again before falling asleep himself sometime after her.

When Jaime woke the next morning his bed was empty except for the sun pouring through the window. Brienne had seemingly left him to wonder if she had really been there or if it had all just been a dream from exhaustion. He had half a mind to find her but one look from the door to his splinted leg reminded him he had little chance of that and instead he resigned to laying back again.

_Perhaps if I sleep, she will come again._

 


	6. Jaime Lannister's New Clothes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne speaks with her father and Evenfall holds a feast (And unlike anytime more then 5 westeros citizens eat a snack together no one dies here).

When she was young, the balcony outside her father’s quarters had been a place of sanctuary and happiness for Brienne. It was where they broke their morning fast, just she and her father. None of her father’s mistresses were allowed to eat with them there, not even the maids would interrupt them. They were left alone and in those hours her father was not Lord of Tarth but just her father.

However, this morning it did not seem like the happy place of her memories. She stood in her father’s bedroom, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Most of her old clothes that she tried on were too small for her now, particularly in the arms, and she ended up ripping the few she tried on. In the end she settled on facing the scorn of her father and wearing an old tunic and a pair of trousers. It wasn’t as if he forbid her from wearing trousers, he just made it a point to encourage her to wear dresses.

“Come, Brienne.” Her father said in his tired way of speaking as he led her out onto the balcony.

Brienne followed obediently, sitting across from her father at the small table. The food covered the small table leaving little room for the two plates in front of them. There were eggs, smoked fish, sausage, porridge, and a basket of fruit along with two loaves of the braided circle bread that was made exclusively on the island. Her father silently went about filling his plate with the food and after a moment’s hesitation Brienne followed, making sure to only take from what her father already had.

“The last I heard from you…I was being asked to offer a sum of 300 gold dragons in exchange for your well-being.”  Selwyn noted, “I…I had thought for some time that…”

“I should have written after, but I was…preoccupied. I’m sorry, father.” Brienne quickly replied.

“No, no, I heard of your continued existence from fisherman from the north.” Her father assured her with a wave of his hand. Despite his casual tone, he kept his head tilted down and his eyes away from her gaze.

“The gold was Jaime’s doing…it is how he saved me from being violated by the men who took us captive. He insisted I was worth it, and you would not take well to me being harmed.” She explained taking a bite of food.

“You were taken captive?” Her father asked looking up at her again.

Brienne gave a nod, swallowing before she answered, “Yes, rather early on.”

“Is that where…” he motioned to his own cheek and Brienne shook her head.

“It is a long story, father.” Brienne said simply.

“Then it is good that I woke you so early in the morning, we’ll have plenty of time before the feast.”

Brienne sighed and sat her fork down, looking at her plate for a moment before looking back at her father. She began from the beginning, how she pledged loyalty to Lady Catelyn after Renly died. That she was charged with returning Ser Jaime to King’s Landing and that was when they were taken by the Bloody Mummers. How Jaime was maimed after protecting her from being violated. She told him how Jaime returned for her after he was set free and she was sent into the bear pit, and how he protected her at King’s Landing. She had even thought to bring Oathkeeper with her to show him as she told of her quest through the crown and riverlands to find Lady Sansa.

The trial by Lady Stoneheart was particularly difficult for her to tell. She often kept her eyes down on her plate instead of tempting to see the pain in her father’s eyes. She had gotten to the point where she thought Jaime dead when she felt her father’s hand reach across the table to cover hers. With a deep breath she was able to continue. By the time she was telling how they traveled north she was able to look at her father once again.

When she told him how on their return south Jaime was taken captive by the crannogmen and strung up in a net for two nights she heard her father chuckle. He fell silent when she told him of the fever she acquired on the Trident. The long story was finished by their attempt to avoid the war, only to be attacked by the Dotharki riders of the Dragon Queen who roamed the crownlands. Brienne admitted to defeating most of the hoard, but had Jaime not killed the man at her back she would have been dead. The last she told him was a simple mention of the battle of Kingsfield, and their uneventful return to Tarth.

Her father was a patient listener, only asking for her to expand at certain points out of interest or to ask if a certain person was in attendance. He had continued to hold her hand all while she spoke and only let go until a few moments after she had finished. He cleared his throat and began to mess about with his utensils, perhaps it was where Brienne picked up the habit of avoiding idleness. “Brienne, may I ask a personal question?”

“Of course, father.” Brienne said simply, there had never been anything she would keep from her father.

“Do you love this man?”

Brienne looked up at her father like a frightened doe. She had not been expecting that. From everything she told him. From the near death experiences, to the violence, and the own deaths she caused. He was more concerned with her heart, although looking back on her childhood her heart was always the first thing her father concerned himself with. Her happiness was far more important than her reputation.

“I…” Brienne started but then quickly looked down feeling her face flush.

“Brienne…I will not fault you. We do not choose who we love.” Her father said softly.

The words struck Brienne, not as a spark or a lance but as settle as a harp string. She looked up at her father again and with a deep breath she replied, “I care for him deeply. As for any further feelings, I have yet to determine them.”

Her father gave a nod which seemed to put an end to the conversation.

Or so Brienne had thought. After a few quiet moments of eating her father sat his fork down again and looked over to her as he took a drink. Before the cup could touch the table he had spoken up again.

“I suppose, if Stannis is truly raising an army of wildings in the north and comes to reclaim his throne Ser Jaime would no longer be in danger?” Her father questioned.

“Who am I to know Stannis’ opinion?” Brienne reasoned with a shrug, taking another bite of food.

“Although, I doubt he would be welcomed back to the King’s Guard…he would be Lord of Casterly Rock then, assuming it’s still standing.” Her father noted and Brienne dropped her fork immediately.

“Father, no.” She said simply.

“No to what? I was simply noting on the possible fate of your friend. Who you tolerate and who might become a noble lord of marriageable age.” Her father said matter of factly with a shrug.

“No.” Brienne repeated with a look.

“Although, I do not agree with the politics of his father, he hardly seems the type to concern himself with a crown that would rather he didn’t. “

“Father, stop!” Bienne sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You did say he could beat you in a duel.” Her father added taking a drink. Brienne shot him a glare to which he responded with a smile of his eyes over the top of his cup.

“He used to be able to.” Brienne corrected and grabbed her own cup to take a drink as she looked out over the waters. She heard her father chuckle again and go back to eating.

“Father…May I make a request?” Brienne asked, looking back over to her father.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaime had spent the majority of the day in bed. He was under strict orders from the maester of Tarth, who had visited him extremely early that morning, that he should no longer put weight on his leg and allow it to heal. The one time he rose from the bed had been to relieve himself in a bucket that had been brought to him for such the occasion, should an emergency arise that required more than the bucket he was to call on someone to aid him. For this matter he had ate little to avoid it.

In order to amuse himself he had taken to tossing the leftover food from his morning meal at the window attempting to hit birds that flew by. It was dull and he only managed to scare a white bird that landed on the windowsill. The knocking on the door was a welcomed interruption from his self-appointed task. “Come in!” He called and quickly replaced the handful of grapes on his lap back to the tray.

Brienne walked into the room in a light blue and sea green gown that fit her better than even the gown in King’s Landing had. Padding had obviously been added again to give her more of a womanly shape, but she was no longer forced into a style she was completely uncomfortable in. The gown was plain by most gowns’ standards. There was no embroidery, and no added frills. The bell sleeves were not cumbersome, and there were very few underskirts to force the skirt out.

“You look lovely, but you didn’t have to dress up to see me.” Jaime said lightly with a smirkish smile as he tilted his head to the side.

“The feast is to begin within the hour.” Brienne told him, shutting the door behind her as she walked into the room.

“Hadn’t you better go welcome the guests?”  Jaime asked raising an eyebrow.

Brienne smirked a little and walked to the bed, laying a set of clothes over his broken leg. “Not without you.” She said simply.

“Ah! No, you must have forgotten. I’m a prisoner, I’m to go on trial tomorrow and I’m confined to this room until then.” Jaime told her matter of factly.

“I’ve discussed it with my father and he’s agreed to allow you to attend the feast.” Brienne told him crossing her arms.

“But I’m a traitor to the crown and it would be frowned upon to see me at a celebration of this type.” Jaime reasoned, in a tone that obviously suggested he was attempting to get out of the situation.  
  
“Yes, but you are also a guest.” Brienne replied simply, “And it would do you well to show the people of Tarth, who have never met you, that you are not a threat and not the man they’ve heard you to be.” She added giving him a look that told him not to protest further.

Jaime sighed, looking across the room for a moment before pushing himself up to a sitting position. “I’m supposed to rest and stay off my leg.”

“There will be chairs.” Brienne told him, moving the clothes off his leg and onto the bed beside him.

“What do I care what they think of me anyways?” Jaime asked as he pulled his tunic off.

“You stand trial tomorrow, if I survive and therefore you survive you’ll be on this island for some time. You would like for it to be a comfortable stay, wouldn’t you?” Brienne asked handing him the clean shirt she brought.

“I’ve dealt with the reaction of my name for a lifetime, I don’t see why a short stay here should be any different.” Jaime shrugged before pulling the shirt on. “Where did you get this?” He asked looking down at himself.

“They are my father’s.” Brienne said simply handing him the trousers.

“Your father’s?” Jaime asked looking a bit taken aback. Brienne turned as Jaime scooted out of his trousers. Jaime glanced over to her, rolled his eyes at her modesty, and went about the task of trying to pull his trousers off and pull on the new pair without scooting himself off the mattress.

“He rarely wears them. They’re not in the traditional style of Tarth.” Brienne explained.

Jaime laid back to lace the trousers and then sat back up again, “My boots.” He told her motioning to where they laid across the room. Brienne walked over, grabbing the one he would need since his other foot was too bandaged to fit in his boot. “And how kind of him.”

“Perhaps he’ll call the maker to come to take your measurements.” Brienne said lightly handing him the boot. Jaime gave her a smirkish look and then leaned down to pull the boot on.

 

* * *

 

The main hall of Evenfall Hall was appropriately dressed for the event of the return of its lady. Long tables graced with light blue linen took up most of the room. Flora native to the island, mainly wild flowers, made up most of the decorations. Brienne’s father had even managed to find a musician, remembering his daughter’s favor of them.

Brienne and Jaime’s entrance was a short pause of silence before the room continued with its buzz of conversation and music as it had been before. Brienne had never enjoyed the requirement of a late entrance as the lord’s daughter, those who attended feasts at the hall often had grown accustomed to this and thus made a habit of hardly acknowledging her when she entered. It was a small relief she greatly appreciated.  Brienne led Jaime to the high court table that was currently only occupied by her father. A second chair was brought so that Jaime could rest his hurt leg on it and Brienne sat beside him with her father on her left.

“Good evening, Ser Jaime.” Her father noted after they had both got settled in.

“Good evening, Lord Selwyn.”  Jaime replied leaning forward to look past Brienne to the other man.

“I hope you’ve been comfortable.” Selwyn added as the kitchen staff brought the food to the table.

“As comfortable as a traitor of the throne could be.” Jaime noted leaning back and giving a nod to the woman who placed his food in front of him.

Selwyn gave a small smirk to himself and then looked over to Brienne, “That is a lovely gown, Brienne.”

“Thank you, it was made this morning…I no longer fit into anything I left.” Brienne explained.

“No? Then the tailor will have to be called on again.”

“And perhaps for Ser Jaime as well?” Brienne questioned looking to her father. “He has no clothes and it would be a shame for him to start to stink again.”

“We will have someone go to the market to find him something should it be needed after the trial.”

“Thank you.” Jaime piped up before Brienne could reply.

The rest of the meal continued on in somewhat silence, only broken by Lord Selwyn explaining to his daughter why one person or another was not in attendance at the feast. After the last course the tables were lifted and moved to the outer edges of the hall. Couples sprung up and took to dance as the musician played a livelier tune for them.

A man more closer to Jaime’s age than Brienne’s dared the two steps up to the front of the high court table and offered his hand across the table to Brienne with a slight bow, “Might I have this dance, Lady Brienne.”

Brienne recognized him as the son of one of the wealthier trades men in Tarth. She sighed and looked to her father who was giving her the well-known look  of ‘accept’. She looked back to the man and gave a small nod before pushing back in her chair and rising, walking around the table to meet him.

Selwyn and Jaime looked on as Brienne was led to the dance floor. The man stopped them near a small crowd and gave a bow before they began to dance. Selwyn sighed, “We had her in lessons from seven to twelve…she never took well to dancing.”

“Not this sort at least.” Jaime muttered with a small smile to himself, ignoring the look Brienne’s father gave him.

“Ser Jaime, might I ask you a personal question?” Selwyn asked after a pause, his eyes having returned to his daughter.

“If you feel you should.” Jaime replied looking over to the older man.

“Do you care for my daughter?”

Jaime did not answer right away, but after a few moments he gave a definite nod, “As I have not cared for another before.” For it was true, while he cared desperately for Cersei it was a different sort of care that he took with the maid of Tarth.

After this, the men fell into silence again and it was not long before the dance had finished. Brienne joined them again, a little flushed from the amount of times she stepped on her partners toes but considering she managed to stay up right, she considered it a success.

“You seem exhausted, my lady.” Jaime commented.

“I’m afraid dancing takes more out of me than most tasks.” Brienne replied and took a sip of water.

“It is a pity I am bound to this chair or I would ask you for a dance.” Jaime told her with a smirkish smile.

“Perhaps I would accept, since you are in that chair I would have to put in little effort.” Brienne replied with a similar look, albeit restrained under her father’s gaze.

 

* * *

 

Jaime and Brienne left soon-after many of the guests had left. According to Brienne, feasts at Evenfall Hall rarely lasted late into the night as the majority of the inhabitants of Tarth were well past the age of wanting to spend hours in a great hall drinking. Her father also had a habit of calling an end to feasts at his leisure with little regard of his guests' opinions on the matter. She assumed the feast would carry on not long after they left. Considering there was to be a duel the next day it would give the guests even more incentive to return home early.

Brienne declined the help offered to her by two of her father’s guards and helped Jaime by herself back to his room. She laid him back on his bed and with a heavy breath he pulled her father’s tunic off and dropped it at the foot of his bed. He looked up at her, the room falling silent for only a moment.

“Will you be staying?” Jaime asked simply, shifting to make himself comfortable.

“I should be returning to my own quarters.” Brienne said simply, a slight bit of nerves in her voice. She seemed fine with the situation as long as it wasn’t acknowledged.

“And later…will you return again?” Jaime asked softly.

Brienne chanced a look down at Jaime again, almost regretting the decision. “I…I should not. It was not proper of me…”

“Then why did you?” Jaime asked curiously.

“I…” Brienne started and then took a deep breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “There are times…when I cannot sleep.” She explained and then closed her eyed, “I close my eyes and…I can still feel his teeth in my flesh…and other nights I can still feel the tightening of the rope about my neck…the fire’s breath as it rolled from that great green beast…or the thundering of a hundred horse hooves.” She opened her eyes and looked over to him, “I find comfort in your presence, Jaime. A strength and a sense of protection that would last through the night.” She admitted and looked across the room, ”My father…I remember he told me once…after I asked him why he continued to court women with no intention of marrying another, and he told me…that one does not truly understand the loneliness of the dark until they have shared it with another and now no longer do.”

Jaime looked up at her, meeting her gaze for a moment before giving a small nod, “Leave my door unlocked, I will leave you room in the bed.” He told her simply. “Fore I often cannot sleep without your presence, and since this might be our last night on this earth should we not sleep soundless in each other’s company?”

Brienne took a deep breath and gave a nod as she rose to her feet. She stared straight ahead, not daring to look back at Jaime as she walked to the door. Silently she left, chancing a glance over her shoulder to him as she shut the door behind her. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest tight from embarrassment, but without even settling into her own bed that night she crept back to Ser Jaime’s.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love reading all your comments, and trust me I read them all and I read every email I get from comments to kudos. I'm trying to take in suggestions; I got Tarth good and Jaime and Bri are a little too domestic. Which is totally valid. Trust me, after the trial they're gonna get out of their rut (notice every time I mention Brienne having trouble with idleness). Hopefully you guys like my sassy, shipper old-man Selwyn.


	7. Jaime's Midlife Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's trial is held and he thinks through some things (And gets slightly mid-life crisisy).

The early morning air was crisp as the masses formed on the grassy hill next to Evenfall Hall. Jaime was seated with his leg propped up on another chair, dressed in his old tattered travelling clothes. Apparently, he was to look the part of a prisoner of the throne. Selwyn stood beside him in similar dress to when Jaime had first seen him on the high steps of Evenfall Hall. Brienne stood the other side of him dressed in chainmail with a sapphire blue cloak that in Jaime’s opinion brought out her eyes rather nicely.

A crowd had formed, as to be expected for a trial such as the one that was happening. When the sept rung that it was the top of the hour, Selwyn stepped forward to address the crowd, “Citizens of Tarth, we have gathered today for the trial of Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, who stands accused of treason against the high throne.” Selwyn proclaimed to the silent crowd. “How should we go forth, Ser Jaime?” Selwyn asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

“Trial by combat,” Jaime replied simply looking out over the crowd. The crowd seemed taken aback. Surely, there was no one who would stand side by side with a traitor, although unbeknownst to them she was already standing beside him.

 “And who do you choose as your champion?” Selwyn asked looking back to the crowd.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth,” Jaime answered, attempting to hide the smug look on his features as an audible gasp swept the crowd. He could almost read the minds of the old women and fishermen. _Our Brienne, fight for a traitor? Never! Shows how much they know of their sweet, innocent Brienne._

“Lady Brienne, do you accept?” Selwyn asked keeping his back to the couple.

“I do, my lord.” Brienne replied simply.

“So be it. Tarth, who will be your champion?” Selwyn asked the crowd who quickly began looking amongst each other, everyone looking for someone else to give the answer. _Who would fight their humble lord’s daughter for the life of the Kingslayer?_

“I will be Tarth’s champion.” The voice that flowed from the crowd was rough and thickened with the accent of Tarth. The body it rose from parted the crowd and appeared before Selwyn. He was a large, muscular man with thinly cut dark hair and a scar across his eyebrow. He was already in armor with Tarth’s sigil on the arm and he held a large broad sword to his hip.

“Ser Brodrick Abbott will be Tarth’s Champion.” Selwyn declared with a nod and then walked back to sit down next to Jaime. Brienne took her cloak off and dropped it on the back of Jaime’s chair before walking forward towards her opponent. She had decided on a mace, she was more comfortable with it and felt Oathkeeper should be saved for more honorable battles.

“Strike fair, Brienne.” Jaime called after her and leaned back in his chair, “How does the fight fair?” He asked Selwyn.

“Brienne is arguably the best fighter Tarth has; Brodrick Abbott is the commander of the Tarth regiment. We have a small fighting force, but what we have is very skilled and he is the top of it. Albeit newly appointment, he’s some years older than Brienne. He was at a dull blade when Brienne first picked up a wooden sword but she soon matched him and for many years of their adolescence they went back and forth besting the other in combat.” Selwyn explained.

Brienne held her mace to her side taking a deep breath as she closed her helmet. Abbott unsheathed his broadsword, holding it out to face her before gripping it with two hands and raising it. They circled one another, sizing the other up slowly as they turned. Abbott was the first to strike, as Brienne learned men were oft to do. She blocked with the mace and swung for his side, which he in turn blocked with his shield. The ground made it difficult. As one went up the hill, the other went down it. Whoever was on top had the advantage, but often not for long as they’d lose balance and the other would gain leverage.

Brienne’s mace clanged against his armor several times, his sword slashed against her chainmail to no avail. He would grunt and she would groan, and little else broke the silence in the air. Abbott lost his footing twice in soft ground only to recover shortly to Brienne’s dismay. It was a comfort to hold a mace again, so underappreciated off the tourney field she rarely got to use one. There was no rhythm to their battle. Abbott was large and less graceless than even Brienne who swung with indifference. She often side stepped not only to get out of the way of his sword, but to avoid being run over by the body following behind it.

He was breathing heavily in the most uncomely way. Large puffs of his breath escaped into the morning air and disappeared in the rays of the sun. It was the cold sweat Brienne detested, sweat with no heat; No pulse racing, nothing but the sticky residue that coated her leathers and stuck her underclothes to her.  Wishing to get it over with, she soon began to pay little attention where her footing was, or even how to properly swing the mace. Little else mattered besides making contact and finishing the fight that seemed to be going on forever, rather than the few minutes it had been. It wasn’t until Ser Brodrick lost his footing again that she saw a shining moment to finally put the battle to an end. She made contact to his helm and dropped to one knee, her other in his back as she held the mace across the back of his neck.

“Lord Selwyn, I request permission to spare this man’s life and call the duel an end!” Brienne could, pressing her forearm against the back of his neck to keep him down. Selwyn raised his head and looked to the crowd.

“Would Tarth accept this request?” Selwyn asked. There was a mummer as people in the crowd exchanged opinions before a consensus of head nodding occurred. “Permission granted, free the man.” Brienne rose and removed her helm, dropping it on her way towards her father. Ser Brodrick let out a groan and stumbled to sit up properly, removing his helmet as well and tossing it to the ground.   Selwyn grabbed Brienne’s hand and raised it, “Lady Brienne has defeated Ser Brodrick Abbott, by the laws of Tarth and those of Westeros, Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock is free to walk these lands and swim these waters as he sees fit. He may drink of our wine and eat of our bread as honored guest. No citizen of Tarth may keep from him the necessities of life, and as Lord of Tarth I request full respect from the citizens of Tarth to our guest.”

The crowd did not linger long. Jaime supposed to that was to be expected, congratulatory remarks did not belong to someone they still saw as a traitor. Brienne let out a heavy breath as her father let go of her hand and she made her way back to pick up her helmet. “You fought well, Lady Brienne.” Jaime noted as she passed him.

Brienne gave him a small smile and a nod before bending down to pick her helmet up. She raised in time to see a man walking towards her with a horse in his shadow. After he approached closer she finally recognized him, “Sylvain!” She called and walked to meet him.

Selwyn sat back down next to Jaime, taking a drink from a cup one of the maids handed him and wiping his brow with a cloth he kept tucked in his kilt. Jaime watched as Brienne met the man and shook his hand between two of hers. Her face had lit up like he had never seen it, and it was odd to him that she should seem so happy to see a stable hand.

“Who is that?” Jaime asked Selwyn as Brienne stayed to speak with the man named Sylvain.

“Ah, Sylvain. He was a stable hand when Brienne was young, one of the few who was ever kind to her. He used to practice with her when no one else would. He manages the stables now.” Selwyn explained, “He’s a good lad.”

The man speaking with Brienne now was tall, not as tall as she but not below average height for his age. He was possibly a few years older than Brienne with stubble left over from a shaven beard. He had sandy blond hair that fell in his eyes when the wind blew, causing him to constantly casually brush it back. Although covered by a tunic he was well built, most likely from work in the stables. The man was comely, but obviously lowborn. The fact was a little comfort to Jaime, Brienne never saw lowborn as being a disadvantage to gain favor from her.

But of all these features that Jaime saw the one he could not overlook, could not forget even as he was helped back to his quarters by two members of the house guard, was the man himself was young. He was in his prime of age. He was strong and able bodied. He had two well hands, and two well legs. People still used the word good to describe him. When had someone ever used the word good to describe Jaime Lannister? Perhaps when he was young and it was still acceptable to call him a ‘good boy’.  _That would have had to have been before Tyrion was born._

Many months before having these thoughts would have seen odd to him. What did he mind who the wench spoke to? And yet it hurt him to think, most of all, that she would leave him. They had been on this journey for some time, ever since Lady Catelyn set them off to King’s Landing. The thought that she might stop it, that she might give in to the destiny she had been running from, had rarely occurred to him as possible. He thought perhaps with Hyle Hunt, but it appeared he was not enough to tempt her. But this man was from her home. She could live a comfortable life on the island with peace and quiet she whole-heartedly deserved.

With a man, she deserved, a whole man who could do more for her than cause problems and make quips. Some logical part of him told him that Brienne would never marry this Sylvian, her honor as a highborn Lady would never allow her to marry a lowborn. But there were hundreds of Sylvian’s out there who were as kind as they were comely and highborn, and eventually, perhaps, Brienne would find one who was worth it to stop running for.

He dismissed the maids who brought him a fresh change of clothes, just as Selwyn had promised; he survived the trial and thus was gifted with clothes from the market. He regretted the choice now, considering how slow he was to strip himself and begin to redress, it gave him more time to look over the remains of the once great Jaime Lannister.

His leg was still bandaged and splintered to keep straight, his right hand was still missing up to the wrist, but beyond that scars littered his body and new bruises plagued him in places he didn’t remember receiving a blow. His arms were not as muscular as they once were, his skin had developed a noticeable sag. He wished he could remember the stories of his injuries. He wished he could point proudly to one and declare the now fallen enemy who gave it to him. But he had been attacked so much and in so short a span he could never remember if one bruise was from a battle or a duel.

He had not been so lucky as to take part in one great war and retire in peace to die before the next one. He had lived through two and seen more battles than a man his age should. He had been knighted too young, he had grown up too quickly. His body didn’t seem to take the beating very kindly. In a looking glass he looked many years senior to his actual name day. There was gray in his beard, and his golden mane was fading daily.

He dressed in the fresh tunic and trousers that fit him better than Selwyn’s old clothes did. He was allowed to look more a guest than a prisoner now. He called, quite literally, for assistance and was aided to the great hall where some of the household staff sat eating at the long tables while Selwyn and Brienne sat at the high table.

Brienne had washed and changed into a simple brown gown with a thin blue overcoat. Jaime was happy to see that despite her courtly lady attire she had greased covered fingers and a cheek full of food with a bit left over in the corner of her lips. “You disappeared quickly, Ser Jaime.” Brienne noted as he sat down beside her.

“Well, we wouldn’t have wanted a riot to follow me, would we?” Jaime replied with a little less zeal than normal.

“I suppose not…what would you like to do with your newly won freedom today?” Brienne asked curiously looking over to him.

“Do? What could I do?” Jaime asked curiously, “Confinement wasn’t entirely painful due to the fact that even if I wanted to leave, I physically couldn’t.” He explained simply.

“I could aid you. Or perhaps we’ll find you a cart.”

“I do not wish to be paraded about in a cart.” Jaime replied.

“You wouldn’t be paraded, I was just suggesting…”

“I do not wish to go anywhere. You asked me to go to the feast, I went to the feast despite the fact I was told repeatedly that I need to stay still and rest. So why don’t I do that? Then perhaps I will be well enough to be of service to your entertainment.” Jaime snapped and took another bite of food.

Brienne fell silent staring at him. Her father had been conversing with one of the kitchen staff over their supply of wheat otherwise he would have heard the argument. Jaime was staring at the table. Typically, he would walk away but he was currently incapable of doing so. If he didn’t do that he would have at least shielded his face from her but if he was to do that with his left hand he would be unable to eat. Therefore, in frustration, he stared at the stains on the table in front of him.

“I thought you strong enough, you claimed you were strong enough. If you are not well perhaps we could find something to do more suitable to your situation.” Brienne reasoned, lowering her tone.

“Ah, yes, let us sit about and read.” Jaime replied sarcastically, still refusing to look at her. “Or perhaps you could practice your needle point, or we could paint.”

“What do you want to do then?” Brienne asked her brow creasing.

“I don’t know, Brienne.” Jaime sighed, pushing his plate away from himself. “Do not feel the need to stay here because of me. I will find something suitable.”

“No, Jaime, you are my guest.” Brienne insisted.

“No…no, it is fine.” Jaime replied, shaking his head and waving her off.

“Perhaps…perhaps Sylvain did offer to show me the new filly in the stables.” Brienne reasoned looking down at her lap.

“That sounds…interesting.” Jaime noted, his brow creasing. Why would he encourage that behavior in her?

“He rarely gets fillies.” Brienne explained. “And it’s blond…perhaps, if you wanted to come with me…”

“Nonsense, I saw the stables from the trial grounds, much too far. I’d be a hindrance, especially if you decide to go for a ride.” Jaime reasoned and cleared his throat. “I will see you this evening, I’m sure…for dinner.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will. And you’re sure you’re fine with staying in the hall?” Brienne asked looking over to him again.

“Yes, go.” He insisted with a bite in his voice.

Brienne sighed and looked over to her father, “Father, I’m going to the stables.” She told him, who replied with a nod. She rose from her seat, placed her napkin next to her plate and stepped to the side to slide her chair under the table. She looked from her father to Jaime taking a deep breath and walking past the high table to leave the great hall. Jaime watched her, not moving to even take a bite until she had disappeared through the doors.

“Would you like some books to keep you company, Ser Jaime?” Selwyn asked with an amused look on his features.

Jaime looked over to the older man and took a bite of food. He waited to swallow and then answered, “That won’t be needed, thank you.” He clenched his jaw into what could resemble a smile and then went back to eating.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya see how I make those summaries funny so as to relieve the tension. You're welcome. 
> 
> I don't know what happened with this chapter, it went from having a purpose to a train of thought. I just really like the idea of insecure Jaime pondering on their age difference.
> 
> Protip: Don't recripple a cripple in your story cause then you and him both think he's a hindrance.


	8. And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne spend the day together at the sept on Tarth (not...not like how Jaime spends his time in the sept in King's Landing...no.)

That night she did not come until the sun had almost risen. Jaime had fallen asleep, assuming she was upset enough to force herself to last the night without him. She crept into his room wordlessly and slipped into the bed beside him, lying on her good cheek to face him in the pale light streaming through the window.

“I woke and you were not there.” She whispered to him after apparently deciding he was awake.

“No, I’m afraid I’m confined here,” Jaime replied, keeping his eyes closed.

“I had thought I would be able to make it through the night...I was wrong.” Brienne admitted, her blue eyes staying on him.

“You will have to eventually.”

There was a pause as neither one wanted to admit what Jaime spoke was true. Brienne shifted a little, her eyes breaking from him to look at the bed between them. Jaime had yet to open his eyes to look at her. She attempted to think of something to say but words had never been her strong suit and nothing came to mind other than to tell him good night, move her back to him, and close her eyes.

A few short hours later, she rose before him and disappeared to her quarters without a word. Her room remained the same as it had been when she left it for Storm’s End. It was not as large as her father’s room but almost double the size of Jaime’s. It had a high ceiling and balcony at the far end. Her quarters were in the west tower that looked out over Shipbreaker Bay and was built of limestone so that only a small window at the top of the room was all that was needed to give her plenty of light during the day.

She dressed in a pair of brown cotton trousers and fresh tunic with the sleeveless brown over coat she wore the previous day. Her father had never objected to her mixing the men’s clothes she felt comfortable in and the few pieces of women’s clothing she could tolerate. In fact, she often preferred it to strictly one or the other.

When she arrived in the main hall Jaime was already seated with his leg propped on the opposing chair and the seat to his left vacant for her. She greeted her father and then Jaime and took her seat between them.  They ate in relative silence for some time until Brienne’s father, who had a dislike for the sound of cutlery on plates as he did idleness, broke the quiet.

“What have you planned to do today, Brienne?” He questioned.

“I had planned to visit the sept.” Brienne replied, causing a crease to appear on Jaime’s brow. He had not known her to be particularly religious.

“Perhaps you should take Ser Jaime with you.” Her father suggested.

“I do not know if I could make the journey.” Jaime piped up, mostly for an excuse not to go.

“It is not far, I could assist you.” Brienne insisted looking over to him.

Jaime opened his mouth to interject when the conversation was interrupted by the old maester of Tarth making his way up to the high table. He held a wooden crutch in his hand and a vial in the other. “These are for you, Ser Jaime.” The man explained placing the vial on the table and lifting the crutch over the table. Brienne rose to her feet and grabbed the crutch, moving it over Jaime’s head to lay it on the floor behind him.

“My thanks, and this is the draught we discussed?” Jaime asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, yes. Your senses won’t be affected, certainly not as strong as milk of the poppy. Although, there will still be some pain and you should still keep activity low.” The man explained with a warning look.

“Rest assured.” Jaime told him and picked the bottle up, holding it out to his side where Brienne was waiting to unstopper it. “Thank you.” Jaime told her and then took a drink from the vial.

“No more than two mouthfuls a day. Anymore and…well just no more than two.” The maester told him to which he replied with a nod before the maester turned and left.

“You were speaking of a sept?” Jaime asked as Brienne restopped the vial before Jaime placed it on the table.

“Yes, Tarth’s is just on the other side of the hill. It is not long and I will assist you if you’d like to come with me.” Brienne told him and looked back down at her plate before taking another bite.

“I suppose…it’s not as if I have anything else to do.” Jaime reasoned thoughtfully.

* * *

 

With one arm over the crutch and his other around Brienne’s back Jaime limped his way out of the main hall after they finished eating. The sun was creeping towards the top of the sky, already warming the island and dispersing the morning fog. Brienne wrapped her arm around Jaime’s back and held onto his tunic as they started across the dirt path to the sept on the edge of the cliff overlooking the waters.

“You never spoke of your day yesterday.” Jaime noted as they trudged towards the sept.

“The filly was well, she will be strong.” Brienne told him with a nod.

“And your friend…what was his name?”

“Sylvian.” Brienne replied, suspiciously looking out of the corners of her eyes to her companion.

“Ah, yes. Sylvian.” Jaime repeated with a nod, “How was he?”

“He is well…” Brienne assured him, her eyes narrowing somewhat.

“He seemed pleased to see you after the trial.” Jaime noted.

“We had not seen each other for some time.” Brienne reasoned, shifting her arm up higher as Jaime put more weight against her.

“Since before you left?” Jaime asked looking over to her.

“Yes.” Brienne replied looking back at him, her brow creased, “Why are you so interested in Sylvian?”

“I had not heard of him, it’s curious.” Jaime explained looking back to the sept ahead of them.

“We fought before I left, enough time has passed that all is forgiven.” Brienne told him, by her tone Jaime knew not to push the subject further. There was always a point with Brienne, and currently she could leave him helpless in the middle of the path if she wished; he wasn’t taking any chances.

The walk to the sept wasn’t far, as Brienne had said, and did not take long even with the hindrance of Jaime’s leg. It was not as grand as the sept at King’s Landing or even Casterly Rock. It was a circular white building with columns around the outer walls. The top was a large, blue glass dome that from the underside revealed a mosaic of the seven gods. Jaime’s foot and crutch echoed with each step as Brienne led him down the middle aisle, luckily there were only a few other inhabitants in the sept so there was not many to disturb.

Brienne stopped at a pew towards the front and once Jaime had his balance she let go and side stepped to sit. She looked up at Jaime expectedly until he let out a deep breath and moved to sit beside her, stretching his leg out under the pew in front of them. Brienne bowed her head, clasped her hands as she began a prayer under her breath.

Jaime sat beside her, his eyes roaming around the sept as he pondered the irony that he could no longer clasp his hands and pray. He smiled a little to himself and looked back down at Brienne, watching her lips move as silent words spilled from her mouth. He bit his own lip and leaned forward holding onto the back of the pew in front of them with his left hand. He watched her for a moment more before looking back to the statue of the maiden that was the nearest of the seven to them.

Brienne’s hands unclasped and moved to hold onto the pew in front of her as well. Hesitantly, she moved her right hand over. Her fingers brushed the back of Jaime’s hand, catching his attention to pull his eyes away from the statue and look down. She moved her fingertips to Jaime’s knuckles slowly, still praying silently under her breath; more so to distract herself. Jaime bowed his head, but had more intentions to watch Brienne’s hand than to join her in prayer.  He spread his fingers, allowing Brienne’s to slip between them. Her palm laid flat against his hand before he gently moved his hand, turning it to press his palm to hers. Their fingers intertwined, Brienne’s flexing before she returned the grip. Jaime rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand gently, and finally with a deep breath he began the prayer to the crone he had memorized as a child.

 

When the afternoon crowd of worshippers began to get thick, the two silently agreed it was time to leave.  Brienne’s hand was the first to leave as she slipped her fingers from between Jaime’s and rose to her feet. Jaime shuffled out from between the pews and Brienne followed, wrapping her arm back around him and helping him back up the aisle to the doors of the sept. Brienne stopped when they reached the outdoors again and looked to the slope beside the sept.

“What is down there?” Jaime asked looking over to her.

“My mother…it is where she’s buried.” Brienne replied softly, her gaze staying down the slope.

“Do you wish to go?” Jaime asked tilting his head.

“No…no it can wait for another day.” Brienne told him shaking her head.

“I do not mind the wait. I…I understand.” Jaime told her with a deep breath, understanding too well.

Brienne looked back at him and then down at the slope once more before returning her gaze to Jaime, “Would you wish to join me, Ser Jaime?” She asked.

“If you want,” Jaime replied simply with a shrug. Brienne gave a small nod and together they began to walk down the small slope to the cove of trees that surrounded the flat area of graves. Most did not have markers, the only indication was the ground looked to have been moved at one point. Others had flowers from family members. Brienne’s mother’s grave was indicated by a white sand dollar from the shore, larger than Brienne’s palm in the middle of a wreath of white flowers sprouting from her grave. Brienne led Jaime through the rows until they stood above her mother’s grave.

“Tarth has no crypts, the ground doesn’t allow it. In some places the waters flooded it, in others the rock would not break.” Brienne explained and gently moved to sit on her knees. “This is my mother.” She told him, running her fingers over the sand dollar. She looked to the graves to her left, “And my two sisters…one before Galladon, and one before me…beside them is Galladon.” She explained, her voice breaking in the process.

Jaime looked down at her and over the graves of her fallen family. He remembered standing next to Cersei and a wet nurse holding Tyrion as their mother was buried in the crypt below Casterly Rock. He remembered his father spending more time in the crypt than with them in the months after his mother’s death. He wondered if the same strong man he had met on the steps of Evenfall Hall had spent his days sitting on the same earth Brienne now sat on, wasting his days away while his lonely daughter grew on her own. He reached out, placing his left hand on her shoulder, not knowing what else to do and feeling compelled.

She turned and looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy, but years of teaching herself to keep it to herself had forced the tears from falling. Neither spoke a word, and after a moment Brienne rose to her feet. She brushed her skirt off and looked back to him.

“You never mentioned your mother.” Jaime noted, knowing himself that she knew the story of his own mother.

Brienne looked back down at the sand dollar. “I was young when she died…not old enough to hold a true memory, but old enough to have images of what I believe to be memories.” Brienne explained, “She…she did not die in childbirth.” She said looking back at him; it seemed to be what most assumed, “It was a sickness, it took half of Tarth with it. She died a moons turn after they thought it gone.” She explained taking a deep breath, “They wouldn’t even let her hold me.” She got out, looking back down at the grave in hopes that her hair might shield her expression from Jaime. “In her last moments my father defied the measter and forced himself into her room to hold her hand. Galladon and I were forced to wait in the hall.” Brienne explained, and finally closed her eyes. In that moment she allowed herself to let out a deep breath, a tear falling that she quickly wiped away before others could join it.

She looked back to him, “Galladon…died in a horse accident two years later. Both…they were both so...ordinary. Nothing extraordinary to their passings…” She reasoned softly. “Nothing could have been done, and yet…the events that led to them happen daily. People fall ill; people ride and fall off horses…” She took another deep breath, “There was nothing I could have done.”

Jaime watched her in silence. Just as she felt helpless to her fallen family, he felt helpless to comfort her. He had never done well to help others in these concerns. He had not exactly been given a good example of how. He reached out, just as she had done in the sept and brushed the fingers of his left hand to hers. Her fingers reached out, hooking with his and bringing his palm to hers. Their fingers intertwined and after a moment Brienne leaned forward towards him. Jaime wrapped his stumped right arm around her back, putting his weight on his crutch as she pressed her forehead to his neck.

He remembered taking Cersei in his arms, although she never cried. He would wrap his arms around her and run his fingers through her golden hair. The arm on Brienne’s back had no hand, it could do nothing to comfort her but hold her to him. He squeezed her hand, relieving himself of some tension that he could be of comfort to her. She wrapped her free arm around him, but after a moment seemed to have composed herself and pulled back.

“If you wish to return…” She trailed off as Jaime gave a nod of his head. It was easier to move forward, to continue on. She rarely allowed herself to dwell on much, just a moment at a time, a chipping away at her wall before she quickly patched it up and simply continued on.  She wrapped her arm around his back and together they climbed the slope to return to Evenfall Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO BE SAD  
> I DIDN'T SET OUT FOR IT TO BE SAD  
> I AM SORRY  
> IT JUST HAPPENED
> 
> But how about that hand holding and hugging, huh? Given me the vapors.  
> Knockin this fic all the way up to PG status. 
> 
> Dear GRRM, why do you randomly spell words different? Word doesn't like that.
> 
> I'm posting this at 1 in the morning if that explains these notes.


	9. Let lips do what hands do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settin`up chapter, Settin`up chapter, this here is a settin` up chapter for later events and the major plot that will continue throughout this fiiiiiic, and it took way too long to write!
> 
> Brienne gets in trouble, Jaime starts acting like old Jaime (which some might say isn't a good thing), and Selwyn is getting too old for this shit.

Brienne felt small. She often felt small in front of her father. He wasn’t much bigger than her, of course he had been when she was young, but now he was only a couple inches above her. However, sitting in front of his desk with her hands under her legs she felt smaller than she had been since she was young. He had yet to sit, instead he was standing with his back to her staring out the window. She always assumed that the waters calmed him because he often watched them when he was upset.

“I have heard…things from the household staff.” Her father began and turned to face her.

“Things?” Brienne questioned curiously, shifting a little.

“Rumors…from at least three maids,” Selwyn continued as he took his seat behind his desk across from her, “They claim to have seen you out in the middle of the night sneaking into Ser Jaime’s quarters.” Her father said, his gray-blue eyes meeting her own.

It had been a little over half a moon’s turn since Jaime and Brienne arrived on Tarth. Brienne had sworn to herself that she would be able to sleep through the night, but she had yet to succeed. In that time Ser Jaime’s leg had healed significantly. The Maester broke the hardened cast and dressed his leg in a simple linen wrap. He still walked with the crutch, but was much more capable of walking about on his own. The test of it had come the night Ser Jaime made his way to Lady Brienne’s quarters, however in the morning when he did not wake early enough to leave before the household staff began their morning job, they decided it was best he didn’t attempt the feet again.

“Do you deny these allegations or not, Brienne?” Her father asked after a significant time had passed and she had not raised a word.

“They…I…” Brienne took a deep breath and stared down at her feet. “I do not deny them.”

“By the gods, Brienne.” Her father muttered, leaning back in his chair.

Brienne looked up at her father, moving her hands to her lap, “You must let me explain.” She insisted, “I…we…I have not been intimate with Ser Jaime, I…have had no relations with him that are inappropriate.” Brienne attempted to explain.

“Then what in the seven hells are you doing sneaking to his quarters?” Her father demanded.

Brienne looked off to the side for a moment, attempting to wrap her own mind around how to explain it to her father before she looked back at him, “When I met Ser Jaime…it was not as Lady and Ser it was one knight to another.” Brienne explained, “And through…everything we’ve been through we have been through it as one knight to another. However, now…we are seen as ser and Lady by others. We have been through trials that at times makes it hard to sleep at night and only the comfort of the other who has been through them can help. We see each other has nothing more than one knight to another.”

Selwyn rubbed his brow as he often did when in deep thought. He pressed his elbow into the arm of his chair and looked over the desk to her, “You will take a sleeping draught from the maester and stop this.”

“Yes, father.” Brienne replied with a nod, it was for the best. She assured herself it was for the best. It had been ridiculous of her to think that she could keep up this routine of sleeping in a man’s bed, a man she wasn’t married to or even betrothed. Why had she insisted on continuing it? Was it even about the comfort anymore?

The rest of the conversation was a bit of a blur to her as she felt herself falling further into her own thoughts. He was still Ser Jaime but somewhere along the way he had turned into something else. Brienne had never been one to depend upon someone else, she learned very early in life that depending on anyone but herself only led to a betrayal of some sort, heartbreak was inevitable. Yet, with Ser Jaime heartbreak had happened early on, it was as if their relationship were in reverse to what she was used to. Had she been wondering into his bed in hopes of feeling some sort of intimacy beyond what she told herself was the comfort of his presences against the demons of her past that haunted her at night? The answer would not come to her in her father’s study.

Fortunately, he dismissed her.

 

 

Jaime was lounging in a chair along the outside of the practice yard in the courtyard of Evenfall Hall. He had acquired a wooden spindle chair and an empty wine barrel to prop his leg on. He had previously been entertained by a group of young squires shooting arrows for what Jaime thought was their first time. They had left some time ago, only to be replaced by a group of young men in mismatched leathers whacking each other with wooden practice swords.

He saw the man from the trial making his way across the courtyard with a saddle on his shoulder and sat up a bit more. “You there!” Jaime called after him, the man turned and looked at him a moment. “Yes you.” Jaime added with a nod.

Sylvian back tracked a the few yards between them and stopped in front of Jaime’s chair. “Can I help you with something, ser?” He asked sincerely.

“Yes…yes…I’m sorry, what was your name?” Jaime asked curiously, tilting his head as he looked up at the other man.

“Sylvian, ser.” Sylvian replied, seeming to have not caught on that Jaime was asking to slight him.

“Ah, yes, Sylvian.” Jaime said with a small smile to himself, “I understand you’re friends with Lady Brienne.”

“I suppose, ser. We’re acquainted.”

“She mentioned she did not leave Tarth the last time on the best terms with you, why is that?” Jaime asked casually, his brow creasing a bit.

“I…I believe that, ser, you perhaps should ask the lady.” Sylvian reasoned looking a little uncomfortable.  

“Perhaps I will.” Jaime replied with a nod.

Brienne arrived in time to save Sylvian from more of Jaime’s questioning. She and the stable hand sparred for some time with Jaime on the wings watching. Sylvian was no match for Brienne and he could tell she was hitting soft on him. The man didn’t know how to use his strength and stumbled often in his attempts at lunging at her. It was apparent where she had learned to tire a man out, if this was the partner she practiced on. The man ended the match quickly, out of breath and leaning on his blunted blade as Brienne stood erect shouldering her own as she waited for him.

It was at dinner that Brienne leaned across to whisper to Jaime her request that he meet her in her quarters sometime after dinner. He agreed and most of the dinner passed in relative silence as they listened to her father recount the complaints he’s heard from the port of the Dragon Queen’s reign. It seemed more and more were calling for Stannis to rise against her, as more and more noble houses lost their heirs to her executions.

 

Brienne was thankful when she heard the knock on her door that Jaime had arrived shortly after dinner instead of assuming she meant right in time for to take their rest. She crossed her room to the door and opened it for him, “Come in.” She told him moving out of his way. He lumbered into the room, almost tripping on the short stairs right in front of the door before making his way to sit on the edge of her bed.

“You wanted to see me?” He asked looking up at her, sitting his crutch against the wall.

“Yes…I…” Brienne was suddenly aware of how unthoughtful she had been to ask him to walk all the way to her quarters only to tell him he needed to go back to his own. “We have been foolish. I have been foolish. I’m a grown woman and I do not need to seek comfort from another for such…idle problems.”

“Is that right?” Jaime asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yes! And…and the maids saw me.” Brienne added bowing her head a little, “They told my father.” She went on and then quickly added, “I assured him nothing improper happened, but he requests that we stop…I’ll be taking a sleeping draught now. He says that if you wish for the same to tell the maester.”

“I see.” Jaime replied with a nod, not seeming entirely sure, “Is…is that all then?” he asked looking back up at her.

“Well…yes.” Brienne replied letting out a deep breath now that it was over with.

“Since I am here, I had thought to ask you about something I’ve been curious about.” Jamie spoke up, grabbing his crutch to lean against it as he looked up at her.

“What is it?” Brienne asked moving to walk over to her vanity. It was rarely used, her father had got it for her when she was twelve before the night she was to meet her betrothed. Since her room had barely since changed since she left, the vanity had stayed.

“You told me of Lord Renly, and of the bet made at his camps. You clarified Ser Hunt, and Ronnet. You even told me of that other man…the old one…”

“Wagstaff.” Brienne reminded him, turning to look at him.

“Yes, Wagstaff…but you never mentioned Sylvian.” Jaime pointed out looking over to her curiously.

“What of him?” Brienne questioned, attempting to seem casual.

“Well, it seems you two were close, from what I’ve heard. Yet, you’ve never mentioned him.” Jaime reasoned.

“We fought.” Brienne reminded him again, and turned her back to him.

“Yes, but what about…if you don’t mind me asking. I’m curious.” Jaime explained, he was sure there was something else there. What he didn’t know, but he intended to find out.

“What matter is it of yours?” Brienne asked, messing with the odds and ends on the vanity, as if she would have him believe she used them in some nightly regimen.

“I’m curious is all, you mentioned the rest why not him?” Jaime questioned.

Brienne turned to face him again, her arms crossed over her chest. She was in a night gown, a thin cotton tunic that laid about her calves and loosely covered her arms. The moon showed through the window above her, back lighting her like some oversized angel who just so happened to look completely unamused with Jaime at the moment. “We fought before I left…he did not want me to leave.”

“And that’s all?”

“No! That is not all! He…he proposed to me.” Brienne begrudgingly admitted, looking away from him and to the archway that led to the balcony.

“Proposed?” Jaime asked not expecting that in the least bit.

“Yes!” Brienne snapped looking back at him, “He did not want me to go, and so he proposed, as if that’s what I wanted. As if that is what would make me stay. It only fueled my resentment towards him and I left. I no sooner reached storm’s end than a raven arrived sending his apologies. I replied assuring him that all was forgiven, he wrote again but I did not.” Brienne explained.

“And it wasn’t what you wanted?” Jaime asked curiously.

“No…of course not.” Brienne sighed, “I wanted to me a knight, I did not wish to be married, and I do not wished to be married now, not to anyone. I decided that some time ago.”

“I’m not slighting your decision…but why not?” Jaime questioned, moving to stand up. “Surely your father still hopes for a proper heir to the island.”

“I do not want to be owned.” Brienne said simply, “If…even if I were to find a man who wished to marry me for his love of me and not of my father’s title, in the eyes of Westeros and others he would own me. When he takes me on our wedding night he would own my body. I do not want either.” Brienne explained simply.

“You are pledging to yourself.” Jaime replied with a small smirk.

“What?” Brienne asked looking back at him, her brow creasing.

“When I pledged my loyalty to the king and took the white cloak I denied my inheritance and promised to give myself to no one. I pledged to the king, and you are pledging to yourself.” Jaime explained. “It’s admirable, I’d expect nothing less of you.”

“I suppose.” Brienne sighed, “And my inheritance is no matter to me.”

“What has your father said?”

“I believe for some time now he accepted that he would not be able to find anyone I wished to marry, and for some time I’ve found none who would wish to marry me. Not for hedge knights and stable boys.” Brienne told him looking out to the water beyond the balcony again. “He will find someone proper to pass his title to with his parting since I could not.”

Jaime had stopped walking close to her, leaning on his crutch for support. He tilted his head, looking at her profile as she looked away from him. He could not express the feelings that over took him in that instance. What tugged at him to reply not in words but in actions. It was partly the way he felt the first time he rode into battle; half fear of the unknown and half excitement to meet it. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers lightly before pulling back.

He did not know the reaction he had been expecting but the sudden wash of shock that covered the wench’s features was almost worth the look of silent anger that followed. “Why did you do that?”

“I do not know, I suppose because I wanted to.” Jaime replied, not being able to contain his smile.

“You cannot do something like that.” Brienne replied, stepping back from him, pressing her fingers to her lips.

“I just did.” Jaime pointed out, “Have I offended you?” Jaime asked, his brow creasing, as he grew a bit more serious from her reaction.

“You…why do you mock me? Why must you always mock me so incessantly?” Brienne questioned moving past him.

“I did not do it to mock you, Brienne!” Jaime insisted.

“Go! Get out!” Brienne replied looking back at him, pointing to the door. “Leave me! Please.”

Jaime stared at her for a moment, his thoughts wondering to another, as they had not for some time. How could they not when she sounded so much like her in that moment. But it was Brienne who was asking him to leave her. He had wronged her. For so long he could do no wrong against her, no slight that would wish him gone from her sight, and with one action he had done it. He sighed and gave a small nod, “As you wish.” He said, wishing he did not have the crutch so that his rejection might have been a bit more dignified but the gods rarely smiled on Jaime Lannister. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had three final papers to write and I intended to post this before them but then NOPE that didn't happen, mainly because I lost Brienne's voice in my head and the last section was freakin hard to write without it. The next chapter shall be up soonish and there's naked in it.  
> All I'm saying.  
> As always, comments are appreciated. Sorry this took so long for those who were anticipating it.


	10. Don't Go Chasin` Waterfalls.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naked Wet Sexual Tension.

By midday Jaime had yet to find Brienne since he saw her last when they broke their morning fast. He had searched the practice yard first and with no luck began the slow march about the grounds. He had all but given up when he spotted a group of maids hanging the laundry. They seemed nervous enough around him to ask without hassle. They obliged much as he had expected, telling him that the lady had gone to the Maiden’s falls and pointed him in the direction of a path.

Jaime had exchanged his crutch for a cane, his leg was still wrapped stiff in linen and he walked with a limp. The path was dirt and slightly over grown, thus making it a little difficult to maneuver for Jaime even before it began to slant downhill. Trees began to shade him, blocking out the high sun above him and obscuring his sight to the sides of the path. Eventually, the sound of falling water reached his ears and more sunlight began to reach him as the trees thinned around him.

 He saw the blues of the water first, reflecting the sunlight from above. His eyes moved to the waterfall that fed into it, it was high and narrow and unlike any he had seen in Westeros. He continued down the path and as the trees thinned, on the other side of the pool of water he saw her on the opposite shore. She was sitting in waist deep water, her hair for the most part except for the ends about her shoulders. Jaime very rarely got to see Brienne in such a state, not only unprotected by lack of clothes but of lack of barriers. She was at peace, relaxed in the shallow pool of water that was clear enough that he could see her entire form and her hands as she ran them back and forth before her under the water. Something in him stirred at the sight of her.

He pondered if he should make his presence known, or wait and let her sit undisturbed for a moment longer. His decision was made for him as his cane caught on a larger rock on the side of the path and he tripped, catching her attention, “What are you doing here?” She called out.

With his balanced regained he looked back up at her to see her squirming in an attempt to cover herself. “Looking for you,” Jaime replied, stepping from the path to the shoreline.

“What do you need?” She asked letting out a deep breath, her face was flushed to a light pink; whether it was out of embarrassment or shock Jaime didn’t know. 

“Your company,” Jaime told her matter of factly as he walked towards the water, “You’ve been avoiding me.” He pointed out.

“I have not.” Brienne replied, “What are you doing?” She asked noticing that Jaime had propped his cane against a rock and started to pull his tunic off.

“Getting in the water, I’m hot,” Jaime explained dropping his tunic to the ground and starting to unlace his trousers.

“You are not!” Brienne snapped.

“You can stay on your side of the pool and I’ll stay on mine.” Jaime shrugged. Brienne frowned a bit, he was blocking her exit, to leave she’d have to pass him, “And you will tell me why it is you’ve been avoiding me.” He added.

“I thought you’d manage to take a hint eventually.” Brienne muttered looking away from him as his trousers dropped about his ankles and he stepped out of them. He sat down slowly and began unbinding his leg.

“That you’re upset with me? Why is that?” Jaime asked curiously.

“Why do you think?”

“There’s two options. Either you were avoiding me to force me to think of what I did and the wrongs I’ve caused you, or you were avoiding me because you couldn’t possibly admit to me, let alone yourself, that you enjoyed the kiss just a little.”

“I was…I am mad at you! You were out of line, you had no right!” Brienne insisted looking back to him just in time to see him rise and cautiously make his way down into the water. She had seen him in this state before, but never not covered in mud and midway through a fever fit. He was clean and properly fed now, having regained a bit of muscle; looking more as he did in the dreams after. He had never been a homely man, but an easy life did do well to him. She attempted to keep her eyes fixed on his instead of wondering his body she had never had the time to properly exam. She attempted to convince herself she didn’t want to look further. The pool was narrow, wider the closer to the waterfall it got but where they were now Jaime could have tossed a rock and hit her. “Why in the name of the seven did you do it?”

“I told you, I wanted to. There was no other reason than that.” Jaime explained watching his foot as he walked further into the water so that it was up to his waist. He was thankful the water was warm in the midday sun, although it did allow a new problem that caused him to want to cover himself.

“That’s far enough.” Brienne told him, causing him to stop walking. “Why would you want to?”

Jaime sighed, “I don’t know, Brienne! Feelings have no reason behind them. I care for you, and the want filled me before I could contain it. I wanted to kiss you.” He seemed almost as frustrated as she did.

“How could you have wanted to kiss me?” Brienne asked shaking her head.

 “Because I am a man and you are a woman and that is often what happens.” Jaime explained with a shrug.

“I am a knight, as are you.” Brienne snapped, “How could you have done something like this without thinking! You’ve ruined everything!”

“How have I ruined a thing?” Jaime asked, his voice rising out of frustration. Brienne had risen to her feet now, walking so that there were only a few feet between them. In the heat of discussion she had forgotten to cover herself, which Jaime took note of despite himself.

“I trusted you! Despite everything, and everyone I trusted you and you did this! Everything was fine, we were as we should be, but you had to mess it up!”  Brienne shouted, turning her back to him and walking towards the running water.

“You can still trust me!” Jaime replied and began to trudge after her. “Listen, if you’re expecting me to apologize, I wont. I’m not sorry. I wanted to kiss you, so I did. You have been more, and meant more to me than anyone…”

Brienne turned suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest, “Why did you kiss me when you did?”

Jaime stopped, almost slipping before regaining his balance. He took a deep breath, pausing before he answered, “You were vulnerable. You so rarely are, but there you were upset and in a dressing gown…I am a knight and a fighter and I was taught to look for a weak moment and make my advance…so I made my advance.” He explained, raising his chin a bit.

“You did not kiss me to slight me?” Brienne asked keeping her eyes on his.

“Why would I kiss you to slight you?” He asked, seeming more confused by the concept than her accusation.

“You’d be surprised.” Brienne muttered and then sighed looking at the water between them.

“If you do not wish for me to do it again, I wont. I don’t plan to kiss someone who’d rather not kiss me I had only thought…” Jaime trailed off.

“Thought what?” Brienne asked, some of her anger had subsided with curiosity.

“Your father has discouraged us from sleeping in the same bed. I would be lying if I said I had not taken comfort in it. Most of my days consist of busying myself, distracting myself in some meaningless way. I found the same comfort in kissing you as I did sharing your bed.” Jaime explained.

“You found comfort in it?” She asked softly.

“Yes.” He told her with a nod, stepping closer again. He looked down, watching her thumb rub circles on her thigh for a moment before looking back up to meet her gaze. They were on level ground, but just as always she was a few inches above him. “It’s a wonder what a simple touch can bring, to know you’re not alone.”

She didn’t speak, but chewed on her lip in thought as her thumb continued to rub circles. He found the action hypnotizing as he wondered what the light pink skin under that thumb would feel like. If it was as muscular as the rest of her, or if even she like other women had soft thighs. Something in his chest was twisting as he waited on her. Cersei had never come to him, she preferred he come to her, but he knew it was different with Brienne. He had tried going to her and she resisted, and now he had to wait.

As if the maiden above had heard his body’s pleas he felt her fingertips brush his leg gently under the water and he attempted to stop his expression from showing any signs of recognition, the rest of his body was not as concealing to his emotions as his features. She must have chosen to touch his right leg on purpose, he had no hand to stop her there.

“You said before that you had wanted to kiss me.” Brienne pointed out softly, her voice hesitant as if she was still thinking about it even as she spoke.

“Yes.”

“Do you still want to kiss me, even now?”

“Yes.”

“Jaime…”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

Before her breath escaped her entirely Jaime’s lips found hers again and kissed her. Her hand flattened on his leg where her fingers had brushed hesitantly. She was more graceful with a sword, but Jaime didn’t expect much; besides he barely noticed. He pushed against her, feeling her knees hit his as she bent down to be closer to his height. He could hear her breathing, and felt her body shake with nerves. He reached up, cupping her face with his hand in an attempt to calm her, guide her in some sense since she seemed lost. Not entirely sure what to do with his other arm since he had little experience in these situations with it, he wrapped it around her back and pressed her closer to him.

Her hands grabbed his shoulders before one gained the courage to break away and move into his hair. Finally, Jaime felt her relax in his arms. Her hand on his shoulder loosened and her arm slipped over it and around his back. The urgency of the kiss had left, the anxiety of the kiss fell away. Murky thoughts reminding him to appreciate every new inch of skin he came in contact with flooded him. He had never been this close to her when he wasn’t drifting in an out of consciousness.  They stayed together for a few moments more, the exact time Jaime wasn’t aware of, before Brienne’s lips began to part from his.  

He pulled back and looked up at her, her face was flushed again but he supposed it was for an entirely different reason this time. Her sapphire eyes, widened even more than they normally were, scanned over him for a moment before she let out a breath and moved away from him, walking to one of the larger boulders near the falling water. She climbed onto it, moving her knees up to cover her chest and kept them together to cover the rest. Jaime looked over his shoulder, watching her and attempting to ignore the ache between his legs at her leaving, before turning and following. He stopped in front of her, now that she sitting they were at a more even height.

“I still don’t know why you’d want to kiss me.” Brienne admitted softly, her brow creased as she looked to meet his gaze. “No one ever has, I’m not pretty enough to want to be kissed.” She said the last as if it had been spoken to her at some point in her life and she resented it.

“You’ve never been kissed before?” Jaime questioned, part of him figured that had been the case but he secretly hoped he wouldn’t have such an impact as being her first in this regard. “And I never said you were pretty, but that doesn’t stop me from being attracted to you despite my better judgment.” He added lightly with a small smile.

“Yes, I have,” She told him with a small roll of her eyes before finishing. “But like before they have been for a slight, to mock me.” Brienne explained, rubbing her arm as she crossed the other over her chest and broke her gaze from him, finding it easier to look at the water beside him.

“I do not mock you, and I do not wish to slight you. I want to kiss you for comfort, to feel closer to…feel something.” Jaime explained. “Just to touch you is enough in all honesty.” Jaime reasoned, “Anything you want, or nothing at all if that’s what you want. But I’m offering. Sadly, I can’t give a logical reason as to why.”

She didn’t reply, instead she reached out and took his hand. She linked her fingers between his and covered his hand with her other hand as she looked up at him again. She took a deep breath and gave a small nod.

“So, I can kiss you again?” He questioned, feeling a little excited about the prospect. He hadn’t felt like this since he was young. Since the worries of war didn’t fill the majority of time, since he was allowed the luxury of worrying over his bodily desires instead of its vital needs. It felt freeing to be focused on seeking pleasure instead of avoiding pain.

“No.” She said simply, his face falling instantly. She leaned forward then, craning her neck to press her lips to his. He made a slight noise of shock but returned the kiss as she leaned back to sit up more comfortably before she pulled back from the kiss, a small exhilarated smile on her lips. “Sylvian took my first kiss when I was thirteen, men in Renly’s camp did the same to gain my favor, just as you did twice now…I wanted to take a kiss for myself.” Brienne explained.

“Cheeky.” Jaime smirked and leaned forward to press his lips to hers, leaning forward against the rock between her legs that had fallen when she kissed him the first time. His hand fell to balance himself, although carelessly it landed on Brienne’s hip instead of the rock beside it. She pulled back from the kiss and reached down, grabbing his hand.

“No, not that.” She told him quickly moving his hand to the rock.

“No, no I didn’t, It was a mistake…” Jaime assured her.

“My lady!” Squeaked a voice somewhere behind Jaime. Brienne quickly pulled her legs up against her chest as Jaime looked over his shoulder. Spotting the maid he turned, and in his attempt to shield Brienne’s body from view presented himself in full to the young lady. The maid covered her eyes with her hand and shrieked, turning to the side. Jaime quickly covered himself with his hand and what he could do with his stump, “I’m sorry, please forgive me.”

“It is alright, what did you need?” Brienne called, straightening up to look over Jaime’s shoulder.

“Lord Selwyn requests Ser Jaime in his quarters immediately.” The maid explained.

“How’d he find out already?” Jaime muttered over his shoulder to Brienne, who shoved his back lightly.

“He says its important news from King’s Landing.” The maid continued.

“Very well, tell Lord Selwyn Ser Jaime will be there shortly.” Brienne told her moving to start to get off the rock.

“Wait a moment,” Jaime called as the maid had turned to leave, Brienne stopped moving as well, “On my word as a Lannister, if you should refrain from telling anyone, especially Lord Selwyn, in what state you found us in there’ll be five gold dragons for you.” Jaime told her, “I’m not telling you to lie, just divulge the truth and don’t bring it up. Do you understand?” Jaime asked the maid, who gave him a nod, “Very well, leave us and find me this evening.”

“We should go.” Brienne insisted as soon as the maid was out of ear shot. She moved past Jaime and started towards the opposite shore where she had piled her clothes. Jaime looked up to watch her, smiling a bit to himself as the water rippled down past her hips. She might not have a woman’s form, but there could be positives in that; lazy women in castles with servants very rarely worked the muscles Brienne clearly had. “Are you coming or not?” Brienne called over her shoulder as she stepped up to the shore.

“Yes, coming.” Jaime called back and started after her, keeping himself covered for decency sake and to hide the fact he enjoyed the view. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told Yellow Delaney I'd make that the chapter summary.
> 
> So, look at that; make you wait almost a month and bust out two chapters one of which has naked, wet, kissing! Yay! Also, I really like people hashing out their baggage, so expect that, also expect more ups and downs every other chapters. That's a thing I apparently like to do. I also apparently really like Jaime and Brienne getting caught.
> 
> (I'm so freakin worried they're out of character.)
> 
> Also, since GRRM has rudely not invented a proper form of time telling in Westeros; they've been at Tarth for a month, for reference. You'll need to remember that for the next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> daaaadun daaaaaadun daadundaadundaadun PLOT TWIST!!!!

“Brienne, I did not send for you as well.” Selwyn pointed out as Jaime and Brienne filed into the room. “It’s probably best if you stay outside, this is rather personal.”

“She may stay.” Jaime assured him as he took his seat. Brienne grabbed a smaller chair that was against the wall and brought it to sit next to Jaime.

“If you insist,” Selwyn sighed and picked up a sheet of parchment on his desk, “I’ve received word from King’s Landing. The Dragon Queen, in an effort to unite the kingdoms and avenge her fallen father has taken it upon herself to hold trial against the houses that had a hand in Robert’s Rebellion. Each of which is required to send a representative to stand trial for execution or two representatives to serve in her household as symbolism of her brother’s fallen children.” Selwyn read off and then looked up at them, “Each of the already three representatives sent from House Frey, and two smaller houses have been executed.” He added and then looked back down, “The Starks are standing in opposition and refuse to send a representative and considering they have no less than three armies in the north standing behind them the queen isn’t strong enough to fight them. “ 

“And why did you need to speak with me personally about this?” Jaime asked, attempting to hold back any sign that he was expecting the worst. He was sure to be on a ship back to the capitol by morning.

“Your brother, Tyrion, was pardoned for his service to The Dragon Queen in her time of conquest. You have gone missing and out of her sight, and while she would rather have your head…she is settling for your sister.” Selwyn explained, “Who has volunteered so that her children will be spared a lifetime of servitude.”  He added and looked up at Jaime finally.

Jaime’s throat had gone dry, his gaze wondered off to the other side of the room. His head was clogged, fuzzy as if he were covering his ears with his hands. He found himself biting on his tongue but didn’t stop until the iron taste of blood was in his mouth. He was brought back to his surroundings by the touch of Brienne’s hand on his knee. He looked at Lord Selwyn who was watching him carefully with creased brow. He turned to look at Brienne and let out a deep breath.

“I must…excuse me.” Jaime got out and stumbled to his feet. He moved between his chair and Brienne’s, forgetting his cane and leaving the room.

“Jaime.” Brienne called after him, rising to her feet and following him out the door he left open his in wake. Jaime was stumbling down the hall, using the wall for support. He hadn’t made it far and it took Brienne only a few strides to catch up to him and grab his arm.

“Let me go!” Jaime snapped pulling his arm from her and almost falling in the process.

“Go where?” Brienne asked, reaching for him again.

“I must go to King’s Landing, if I find a ship in port I’ll be there before Cersei.” Jaime reasoned attempting to continue down the hall.

“Jaime!” Brienne called back at him, frustrated more than worried that he would actually manage the journey. She reached out again and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his back to her chest.

“Stop it!” Jaime growled and turned to face her. “I have to…The Dragon Queen wants me. I’m the one who stabbed the Mad King in the back, it should be me!”

Brienne fought against him, struggling to keep her arms around him, until with his confession his body relaxed. He leaned against her, she stumbled for a moment with his weight and then leaned against the wall beside her as his hands clung to the front of her gown. He didn’t cry, although his body shook as if he did. He no longer cried out, although she heard him muttering under his breath. When she could hear him she rebutted whatever he said, whatever claims he made to slight himself she denied.

It took only one curious look from a maid at the opposite end of the hall for Brienne to decide they should no longer be in the hall, “Come, Jaime.” Brienne told him softly and moved to stand up. He curled close to her side, leaning against her as they walked. She did not take him back to his quarters but to her own; they were closer, and her bed was larger and more comfortable. She closed the door behind them and brought him to the bed. He sat on the edge staring at the floor in silence as she moved to sit next to him.

“I have failed her.” Jaime said matter of factly.

“You have not.” Brienne insisted.

“It should be me…I should be the one. I’m the one she wants…” Jaime raised his head and looked across the room, “She is trying to find me…she is using Cersei to bring me to her.” He realized weakly.

Brienne watched him, never having been the one in the place to give sympathy she had no idea how she was to react. Had it not been just moments ago that she was truly smiling for the first time in so long. She had felt light, almost weightless as he kissed her, as he smiled at her and reached out for her. Now he kept his arms to himself, coward by himself away from her. She bit her lip and reached out to him instead, placing her hand on his shoulder. He had said her touch was enough to comfort him before.

He turned to her then, his emerald eyes normally so full of life drained of all the light they held. He moved towards her and she moved back. She looked up at him wide eyed, not knowing what to expect as he crawled over her. He gave her a pointed look and then shifted, sitting down beside her with his legs in her lap. Brienne let out the breath she had been holding and leaned back against her headboard, her shoulder pressed against his. Jaime moved his left hand to his lap closer to her and after a moment Brienne reached down, lacing her fingers loosely with his. She was still not sure of herself, not comfortable with reaching out physically to someone but she supposed she would become as comfortable with it as she had sleeping in his bed.

She didn’t know if he was going to cry, and secretly hoped he didn’t. She was barely managing to take of him in this state, she would be even worse if he began to cry although she wouldn’t blame him. Fortunately, he simply remained silent and sat with his legs crossed over hers. His thumb rubbed over the back of hers and he subtly, progressively began to lean more against her. Many times in the moments that passed Brienne thought of something to say to break the suffocating silence, but nothing seemed worth the effort.

They stayed in the room until the sky outside the window turned dark orange with the setting sun. They had barely spoken in that time, but shifted their positions often. Brienne had taken her overcoat off, Jaime had dropped his doublet on the floor. He moved his legs off her at some point and her arm wrapped around him. Eventually, they settled with Jaime lying beside her with his head in her lap and her fingers in his hair.

Cersei had written to him before, calling on him to save her from a fate similar to this he knew. Then, his anger had consumed him and the fate was her own. This time it was not her own making but his. He was to blame for her death, her blood was on his hands. Now guilt overwhelmed him and he had no room for anger. He grieved her, and mourned her not as a lover but as the sister, he could not protect.

Brienne waited some time, watching the setting sun before shifting just a bit. Her hand moved from his hair to his cheek, “Jaime, it’s time for supper.” She told him, not knowing if he would be in the state to want to eat or not. She watched as he moved to prop himself up over her and gave a nod before sitting back on his knees. She bit her lip and reached out, brushing his hair down where it was disheveled. “I’m sorry…I…I am not very good at this sort of thing.” Brienne told him with a deep breath.

“You did just fine.” Jaime told her in a strained voice with a nod. “I hope…I hope you do not think that this will…affect us negatively. I stopped wanting her as I had some time ago, but she is still my sister.” Jaime explained and moved his hand to hers, “It is you I want, and need.” He said meeting her gaze.

Brienne met his eyes and took a deep breath. He had told her before that he needed her; needed her for protection, needed her to fulfill his oath, needed her to risk her life for his. Never had he spoke of need in such an intimate matter concerning her, nor had anyone else ever. She continued to chew on her lip and gave a small nod. It scared her, the idea that he would transfer the ideas and thoughts he had for Cersei to her; would he expect the same from her. She did not yet know if she could give it to him.

Silently he moved off the bed and stepped into his boot, bending over to lace it. Brienne pulled her overcoat back on and then held his doublet out to him. He thanked her and pulled it on and then offered her his arm. He stopped before his arm was raised completely, noticing he had offered her the arm between them, his right. He cleared his throat and looked down, shifting forward as if to move so his left would be between them, but his cane would be in the way. He sighed and raised his head, looking across the room until he felt Brienne’s arm wrapped around his upper right arm, her fingers pressed into him gently. He looked over to her meeting her gaze and then leaned forward to press his lips to hers.

She found the more often he kissed her the easier it was becoming to accept them. He had been right in believing they brought comfort, they did. More than that they reassured her. The kiss was softer than the ones shared in the water, the severity and desperation had left them. He was no longer persuading her. He gave her a halfhearted smile and together they left the room, her arm still wound tightly about his.

Jaime remembered when they had walked together similar to this before, although the times before they had walked together due to physical aid; the times he was injured and the time she was ill. They had leaned on one another as one knight would his brother, and now they walked together as lady and ser. The thought brought a small smile to his features as they walked to the main hall.

“Lord Selwyn, I’d like to apologize for how I left.” Jaime started as they took their seats at the high table.

“Think nothing of it, completely understandable.” Selwyn assured him with a wave of his hand.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind finding out more…I know it would seem suspicious…” Jaime trailed off; to Jaime the exchanging of ravens had always seemed like one of the board games Tyrion used to play as a child and he had never been good at either.

“I have already dispatched a few ravens, I will let you know when I receive any information.” Selwyn assured him with a nod and a soft tone.

“Thank you.” Jaime replied in a low tone with a bow of his head and then went back to his food.

 

That evening the faint knocking on her door woke Brienne. The moon streamed through the window above her, but it was too late for even the birds to sound. The knocking was too light to be a guard or a maid, whoever it was didn’t want others to hear. She could guess who it was but she hissed into the night air, “Who is it?”

The door crept open and Jaime’s head appeared in the room, “I’m sorry to have woken you.”

Brienne propped herself up, turning to look at him, “Come in, what’s wrong?” She asked, her brow creasing in concern. Jaime stepped in, quietly closing the door behind him. Slowly made his way towards her, having left his cane behind in his room so he wouldn’t make so much noise.

“Nothing is wrong. No, considering the circumstances I’m in a rather pleasant state of calm.” Jaime assured her as he walked closer. She bit her lip and moved to sit up.

“Then why are you here?” She asked softly.

“I couldn’t sleep, I suppose I’m not as calm as I told…but I wanted to see you.” He told her, “And to…assure you that the feelings I spoke of earlier in the day still remain despite everything.” He stopped next to her bed, sitting on the very edge next to her.

Brienne didn’t know how she was supposed to respond to him. She appreciated it, of course. She had thought about it, although he had attempted to suppress those worries earlier. Her sapphire eyes met his emeralds and then she gave a nod, “You need not to worry about me, Jaime.” She told him softly.

“That fact hasn’t stopped me before.” He told her in a low tone with a small smirk hinting at his lips, “But believe me when I say that I will need comfort, your comfort, even if I do not show it. Do not hesitate, I will accept it.”

“I’ll remember that.” Brienne told him with a nod, as if it were another task he was bestowing her with. It felt almost as daunting as being sent to fight on his behalf, she never felt comfortable being the one to comfort another. 

“May I kiss you again?” He asked curiously, feeling more and more like a boy yet to reach manhood experiencing these desires for the first time.

“Yes…but Jaime…”

“What?” He asked hesitantly, worried for what she might object to.

“You can stop asking.”

Jaime chuckled as he leaned down, moving his hand to cup her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers. She returned the kiss softly, her hand reached up to hold onto his arm as she craned her neck towards him. His thumb rubbed along the edge of the scar on her cheek, causing her to stiffen for a moment before relaxing again. Jaime pulled away slowly, getting used to being the one to have to, Brienne seemed too cautious to want to be the first to pull away.

“Goodnight.” He whispered to her.

“Goodnight.” She replied as he rose and made his way back to her door. She watched him closely, settling back down as she heard the door close behind him. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, smiling a bit to herself. She had been told many of stories of princes and knights kissing beautiful maids in their bed. She supposed it was only proper that with the irony that was her fate he would kiss her to sleep instead of to raise her from her slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys tell I know what I'm doing with this thing now cause I'm kinda on a roll in terms of moving along the plot. I figure at this rate they'll be off the island within a matter of a few chapters. Of course I want to devote a couple to just them, not the plot, so we'll see how that goes (the next chapter appears to be headed in that direction). 
> 
> I'm glad you guys seem to be enjoying it and held out long enough for me to get comfortable in this realm.


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